I'm the Kidlock
by shnuffeluv
Summary: WHO!LOCK KID!LOCK Sherlock has a friend coming over for his birthday. A man who has a magic blue box and causes havoc wherever he goes. Too bad Sherlock and John get caught in the crossfire. NOT-SO-SERIOUS-WARNING: May cause fangirling and/or flailing because of the awesomeness of Wholock.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yes! WHO!LOCK KID!LOCK! MY PLOT BUNNIES ARE MAKING ME FLAIL SO MUCH! …Sorry. So, I know I mentioned writing a parent!lock in my previous fic, but this latched on and wouldn't let go. So…I went on a road trip where we had like, over 5 hours in the family van, I had a pencil and paper…and…12 CHAPTERS OF THIS WERE MADE. And I thought, might as well give all those wholock fans some treats. And, because I am totally obsessed with kidlock right now, I made it kidlock to.**

* * *

When Sherlock's birthday came around, he insisted that he and John not make any plans around the week in question, even and especially for his own celebration. "I have a friend who's coming to visit, but he tends to have…scheduling problems, so he could come at any time." And that was all he would say about the subject, much to John's protest. "Sherlock, we should at least plan dinner out somewhere! Is it really so terrible to want to do something nice for you?"

"No, John, but I have a friend—"

"Who can't keep track of time, I know. But surely no one's so bad at keeping track of time they need a week of window space?!" Sherlock appeared to be ignoring him. His head was cocked to one side, listening. There was a faint groaning and wheezing noise in the distance. "Sherlock, is that—"

"Ssshhh!" Sherlock looked over at John. "He's here. John, he's here!" John was stunned. He hadn't heard _that_ noise since-

The door burst open. "Sorry, Sherlock, I think I missed your birthday—_again_." John stood with his mouth open. The man looked as gangly and awkward as he was back in Afghanistan. He looked the same right down to his bow tie and suspenders! "D-Doctor?!"

The Doctor took a good look at him. "John? John WATSON?! I haven't seen you in years! You know Sherlock?!"

Sherlock looked over at him. "John? You know the Doctor?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing, Sherlock."

The three men just stood there in silence a moment, then burst out laughing. "Small world!" John said.

Sherlock heaved a big gulp of air as he said doubled over, "Small galaxy!"

The Doctor had tears in his eyes as he exclaimed, "Small UNIVERSE!"

As they calmed down they went over to the chairs to sit down, or in the Doctor's case, sprawl out all over the couch, and they exchanged stories of how they met. John met the Doctor briefly in Afghanistan on a particularly hard night. "He saved so many people by keeping every single one of us awake. He had to come over to wake me up 3 times, but I didn't lose one patient that night."

Sherlock met him during what appeared to be a mock werewolf case that turned out to be anything but. When John asked about the werewolf, Sherlock just smiled and the Doctor muttered something about the royal family and national security. John didn't press the matter further.

The Doctor finally jumped up and started pacing, saying, "Yes well that's all fine and good…but how do _you two_ know each other?"

So Sherlock and John explained "A Study in Pink" to the Doctor, who looked briefly at John at the mention of killing a man. But he understood that it was the cabbie or Sherlock, and he wasn't about to want Sherlock to die, so he let it go. He put a bottle of something on the table that didn't quite look like wine or water, but something in between. John looked at it carefully. "What's in there?" But by the Doctor's smile he knew he wasn't about to get an answer. "I'll be right back with some glasses. Don't. Try. Opening and or drinking that until I get back. I want to share your birthday gift with you and John, okay, Sherlock?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, Doctor. Just get on with it."

"Be back soon!" He said as he shut the door.

"Well, out of all the things I could have been expecting, that certainly wasn't on my list." John said, leaning back.

Sherlock just hummed as he went to the kitchen. "Sherlock? What are you doing?"

He produced two glasses from one of the cabinets. "We're going to find out what's in that bottle!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The length of the chapters I wrote varies. Sometimes a lot. Fair warning for the future. Oh, and I just really want Sherlock to have a lisp. He's just...so much cuter.**

"We're going to find out what's in that bottle!" Sherlock had that glint in his eyes that screamed _a bit not good_ to John. "No, Sherlock. No. We don't even know what could be in there!"

"If we knew what was in there what would be the point? Honestly, John." Sherlock said exasperated, "Where's your sense of adventure and excitement." John sighed. Sherlock knew him too well. "Fine. Give it here." As soon as John sat back in his chair taking a sip, Mycroft walked in. "Bit early for a drink, isn't it, boys?"

"Shut up, Mycroft. What do you want?" Sherlock hissed, never moving his head or missing a beat.

"Simply to wish my brother a happy birthday." He said with his best fake smile.

"Well now you have. Good bye." Sherlock took a long sip out of his now-empty glass and closed his eyes. John thought that wasn't such a bad idea. Whatever was in that drink was making him drowsy. Mycroft stood there awkwardly a moment and then excused himself to the bathroom.

John took another sip of his drink and tried to stay awake. Not the best plan, but he thought he could stay awake. His body just kept insisting that it was _so tired_ but he tried to stay awake until the Doctor could get back and help him…he _could_ do it…

He soon slipped into a sleep so deep he didn't even hear the glass shatter on the floor when he dropped it.

* * *

Mycroft heard the shattering glass and was immediately worried. His mind flipped over to that man on the CCTV cameras. Who was he, and why did he come to Sherlock? It wasn't uncommon, but this man was…for lack of a better word, different. And the shattering glass was a concern. Did he come back and start a fight? He didn't hear anymore glass, or anything else for that matter. No footsteps, no crying out, not even a muttered curse at a clumsy hand. Something was wrong.

He walked out to the living room to find a pile of clothes where each man was sitting a moment earlier, with a lump in each pile. But the strange thing was that the lumps appeared to be shrinking. They stopped at the point where if you stretched a lump out, it might barely reach a meter high. Mycroft carefully approached the lump under Sherlock's clothes on a whim. To his surprise, a bundle of black curls popped up around the hole in the shirt for the neck, but it didn't do anything else.

He pulled down the shirt and soon saw what the black curls were attached to: Sherlock's head. Only Sherlock was about 3 years old instead of about 30. Mycroft stammered, "Sh-Sh-Sh-Sherlock?!"

The bundle moaned and said, "Leave me alone, Mycwoft, I'm twying to sleep!" And he whipped his arm out still in its shirt sleeve for good measure. Surprised by the amount of fabric flopping when he did this (as opposed to the usual _none_), he sat up and blinked, thoroughly confused. "Wha-…JOHN!"

The other lump poked its head out of the neck hole and tripped over the rest of the jumper, and fell out onto the floor. John looked at Sherlock, and Sherlock gaped at John, until the Doctor ran in yelling, "Sherlock! Don't drink that! It's the wrong…um…bottle…"

And they all just stood there until Sherlock spat out, "Well, gee, you think?!"


	3. Chapter 3

**I love to say Raxicoricofallipitorious given half a chance. Just a quick note about me. And now, back to your regularly scheduled program.**

* * *

The Doctor quickly scanned Sherlock and John with his sonic screwdriver. "Amazing! Your bodies have been totally transformed into that of a 3-year-olds!"

"Yeah, we can see that, Doctor! But how?"

At John's question, the Doctor turned sheepish. "Well, I was a little busy while I was leaving the TARDIS, and instead of taking the bottle of intergalactic apple juice made on Raxicoricofallipitorious, (which is amazing by the way,) I may have taken the de-aging serum from here in the 23rd century. Not to worry, there is a cure…I think." He barely mumbled the last bit, but Mycroft still heard it, and immediately lost all the composure he had scrounged up. "You think. You THINK?! Listen, I don't know just WHO you think you are, but nobody hurts my little brother and gets away with it! Who ARE you?! Talking about made up planets and the future like you're some…some…_time traveling alien_ or—" he stopped short. It wasn't like he hadn't heard the rumors, but the man who was whispered about in the darkest corners…_the Doctor_…that was what this man was called too… "But you're not-I mean, you can't actually-You're just supposed to be a rumor!"

"And yet here I am! Hello, I'm the Doctor! And you must be…_Mycroft Holmes_! I've heard of you!" He did a quick once over of Mycroft. "You're not as fat as they say. They're a bit rude then, but people tend to be…" Sherlock laughed and John smiled as Mycroft's ears turned red.

"Wait! No! Yes! No! Sorry, got a bit distracted there. Sherlock, John, can you come over here? I want a good look at you." Both boys trudged slowly over. All they were wearing were their shirts, bunched up and dragging where they met the ground. Neither had any immediate problems, and all wits were with their respective owners, though Sherlock kept absentmindedly start to suck his fist then catch himself. "May as well keep it in your mouth, brother dear. It's not as if we'll hold it against you." Mycroft teased as he eased himself onto the couch. This was met with a stern, "Shut up, Mycwoft." And a personal scowl from Sherlock _to_ Sherlock about his adorable inability to say his "R"'s. John laughed a little. "Oh, like you wewe the pewfect thwee-yeaw-old, then." Sherlock snapped.

"No, sorry, Sherrock, it's just a bit funny. In fact, it took me ages to wearn my—" he stopped and kicked himself.

"Youw L's?" Sherlock supplied with a smirk.

"Fist sucker."

"Suck-up."

"Behave, you two."

"Shut up, Mycwoft." At John's smirk, Sherlock tackled him, then pounded him hard between the shoulder blades. It took both the Doctor and Mycroft's combined strength to rip the two away from each other. At which time both boys decided it would be perfect to continue their nap where they left off, Sherlock curled in Mycroft's arms, John clinging to the Doctor's suspenders in one hand, his bow tie in the other. The Doctor quickly changed his assessment of the situation. "Okay, so the only thing that really survived this transformation was their memories. Otherwise, they're 3."

Mycroft added, "And as if that weren't bad enough, it seems Sherlock has just found himself a new punching bag."

All the Doctor could find to say to that remark was, "Well this is just _lovely_."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks to my guest reviewer (who's my mom, but that's beside the point) who's brave enough to post the first review. I like hearing that people enjoy reading my fics, even if they are made primarily to get rid of plot bunnies.**

* * *

It was soon decided Mycroft would go and get the boys clothes that actually fit them. Just as Sherlock was waking up Mycroft came back carrying multiple bags. "Mycwoft, whewe wewe you?" he asked, still too tired to care about how he sounded.

"I went to get you and John clothes that would actually fit you, of course."

"If you think I'm gonna weaw some stupid-" he stopped when he saw a small purple shirt and a pair of black dress pants, just like the ones he had that were much larger in his closet. He quickly grabbed the outfit (along with some underwear) and started to put them on. But Sherlock soon found out that 3-year-olds are useless when it comes to buttons. "Here, let me." Mycroft offered. To his credit, he managed to suppress all but the twitch of a smile, and when he was done, he actually received a scowl-free "Thank you," from Sherlock as he moved on to something of interest. Soon John was up and changed into jeans and a jumper, and the two boys were working on making Billy into a toy car as the two men tried to figure out what to do. "You're taking this awfully well," the Doctor remarked.

"Well, now that I know who I'm dealing with, I have to open my mind to what seemed impossible before but is now merely improbable because you're here. But Doctor, you said something about a cure?"

"Yes, but there are…problems. Taking two boys from the 21st century into the 23rd and claiming they were changed by technology 200 years ahead of their time…not preferable."

"Couldn't you just quickly go and take it without them?"

"I'd still have to explain what I was doing sooner or later. Again, not preferable."

"Sherrock, have we tried pens yet? Not with caps, just the pens."

"They won't wowk with Billy's shape."

"…How do you know…?"

"There has to be something we can do. Who knows how much they'll change?" Mycroft mused.

"Well, they can't regress any more than to three, but if they do fully regress, they might lose anything they had left of their previous life."

"And I might have to become a father figure to them." Mycroft was more scared of that than anything that could happen to Sherlock while he was like this.

"Ha! See? I tow'd you pens wouwd work!"

"Hmm…I need to look into that." Sherlock slipped into his Mind Palace and John soon got bored. Which meant that the Doctor felt obligated to teach him how to dance. By the time Mycroft thought he should be considering dinner the two were jumping around the room like monkeys. Sherlock retreated to Mycroft's lap. "Are you going to eat dinner tonight, Sherlock, or just sulk?" Mycroft asked, absently rubbing his hand through his brother's curls.

"…fowget…" Sherlock mumbled. He tilted his head back as far as it would go. "It seems so much easie-uh to fowget evewything, My. I wanna fowget and yet I don't."

Mycroft blinked at his now much littler brother. "And how much are you hating yourself for telling me this?"

"Not at all. Which is actually almost as scawy as my memowy."

Mycroft laughed at that. "And yet here you are, on my lap, talking about the darkest corners of your mind."

"Yeah…How about pizza?"

"Hm?"

"Fow dinn-uh. Pizza." Sherlock looked so hopeful it was impossible to not be cute.

"Ah. Sure, I suppose we can have pizza. Is that okay with you, Doctor?"

"What? Oh, pizza? If we can have fish fingers and custard too, I'd love to have pizza!"

Sherlock giggled. "Fish fing-uhs and custawd awe good."


	5. Chapter 5

**I honestly have no idea where the bees thing comes from, but I decided to put it in anyway. If you know where that started, feel free to tell me for future reference.**

Dinner wasn't an all-out brawl, thankfully. John and Sherlock fought a little over the fish fingers and custard, but the Doctor solved that by eating the last fingers and scraping out all the remaining custard. Which soon left getting the two boys ready for bed. Though neither would admit it, both of them were completely exhausted. But they put up a fight, using rubber bands as weapons and Sherlock's chair as their fortress. When the Doctor sonic silverware at them, though, (only spoons for their safety, of course) the boys hoisted the white flag and got changed into their pajamas. Sherlock's had bees all over and John's had ("stereotypical" the Doctor said, insulted) UFO's and rocket ships.

Mycroft and the Doctor then let Sherlock and John put on a news channel in another language and the boys made up their own dialogue to it until they passed out cold. "It's only 20:30. They definitely are not themselves." Mycroft said after putting a blanket over the consulting detective and army doctor. He briefly yawned.

"I can stay over here tonight and watch them if you want." The Doctor offered wearily. He could use some time alone himself, but this was his fault, after all. He felt some responsibility over the two boys.

"I can stay just as easily." Mycroft said, not willing to leave everything to the Doctor quite yet.

They decided to stay over together.

* * *

Sherlock was having a nightmare.

He had found the formula to make John and himself normal again. Good, right? He took it and offered it to John. But John wasn't John anymore. He was completely 3 years old, and Sherlock couldn't do anything about it anymore. And he couldn't change back to be with him. He looked over at the Doctor. "Doctor, please! You have to do something!" He begged, he pleaded, but nothing would change the Doctor's mind to help. So he just sat down by little-John, and cried by his side until he couldn't stand it anymore, and left him there.

* * *

John was having a nightmare.

Sherlock had found the formula that would make them normal again, thankfully. Sherlock took some and offered the rest to John. But when John said yes, of course he wanted the rest, Sherlock couldn't understand him. Sherlock asked the Doctor to do anything to help him, but the Doctor refused. Sherlock sat down beside John and started to cry. John couldn't stand to see him like that. "Sherrock, pwease! It's sti-wuh me in hewe! Pwease!" Sherlock just looked over sadly, pityingly at him, and eventually just walked away, leaving John to cry alone.

* * *

Sherlock and John woke up screaming at the exact same moment. They crawled underneath the blanket they shared to each other and clung to each other tightly, shaking a little. Mycroft and the Doctor rushed into the room to see what was wrong, but it wasn't as reassuring to either one of them as having each other there, and even if they weren't okay, each was the same as the other was. As soon as their sobs died down, they started to drift off to sleep again. "Stay with me." John whispered.

Sherlock gripped John's hand like Mycroft used to when he got nightmares to try and comfort him. "Always," Sherlock replied.

And the two men in the room were left more confused than ever.


	6. Chapter 6

**I have decided I probably have too much free time at this point. Luckily, with school that won't last long. EXPECT SPORADIC UPDATES!**

Sherlock and John slept the rest of the night nightmare-free. John woke up at 8 and Sherlock woke 5 minutes later because of John shifting. "Mornin' Sherrock."

"Mmm. Wha' time…8:05? Not _too_ bad."

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"…Do I _have_ to have something?"

"Tea and toast it is, then."

"John, awe you fowgetting something?"

"What?"

"You'we thwee. I'm thwee. How awe we supposed to weach anything, let alone make bweakfast?"

"Weww, wet's check if we even have any food first. Then we can worry about how neither of us can use a button, never mind make breakfast for ourselves."

"You'we talking funny again."

"So're you."

"Fai-wuh point." The two boys looked all throughout the kitchen, but could only find a half-eaten box of cereal-and they were out of milk _again_. "Just as well. It's not like we could've made another kind of bweakfast. Oh-wuh like I would've eaten it." Sherlock remarked. John nodded his consent. They poured two bowls of dry cereal and attacked them until there was nothing left. They just sat there in silence a moment, then, "Sherrock?"

"Mm-hm?"

"What did you dream about wast night that couwd make you so terrified?" Sherlock hesitated, then spilled everything rapid-fire just like he would when making a deduction. John blinked, then recalled everything that happened to _him_ in _his_ dream. Then it was Sherlock's turn to blink in surprise. "We pwetty much just had the same dweam."

"Basicawy…" The two sat half a moment, then yelled, "DOCTOR!" There was a bang followed by the man rushing into the kitchen, screwdriver wielded like a sword. "What? What is it? What's wrong?!"

The boys couldn't help laughing at him. His hair was sticking every which way, what survived of his usually neat bow tie was pointing straight up into his chin or drooping limply towards the floor. His suspenders were hooked around his elbows, his shirt and pants were bunched up in odd positions and his buttons were having a hard time finding the right holes. "What?! You two boys yelled for me like a Dalek was trying to burst in through the front door, and now you can't stop laughing?! What's wrong?" Neither boy could answer. John laughed so hard he collapsed on the table. Sherlock, however, was less fortunate and fell out of his chair. John and the Doctor were quickly by his side. "Sherlock, are you okay?" The Doctor asked.

"Owwww…that huwts…" He sniffed. Tears glazed over his eyes. John looked at him with concern. Sherlock was never one to cry. "Sherrock? You okay?"

Sherlock scowled and blinked hard, which just made the tears start to fall down his cheeks. If he scowled much harder, his face might never return to normal. "I'm fine, John. I-I don't e-ven k-know why I'm-" he burst into hysterics before he could finish. The Doctor scooped him up and shushed him, kissing the top of his head and hugging him tightly. Sherlock buried his head in the Doctor's shoulder and kept it there. The Doctor sent John a no-nonsense look that said _now why did you call me?_ And John told him about how they had almost exactly the same dream. "Interesting. You two seem to have formed a psychic link when you transformed. Although that is interesting, it leaves me concerned. If one of you becomes 3 in their mind when you two are connected…"

"The other won't be far behind?" John phrased it like it was a rhetorical question. The look the Doctor gave him was enough of an answer. Mycroft walked downstairs from John's room when the commotion had seemed to calm down and took in the scene in front of him. Sherlock looked up from the Doctor's now tear-stained shoulder when he heard footsteps and reached out as a signal for Mycroft to pick him up. He did so, and Sherlock giggled. "Thing weally couldn't get any wowse, could they." He sighed. "But I suppose that's how it nowmally is with you, Doctoh."

"I'll find a way to fix this, Sherlock. No need to guilt me into it."

"You'd bettew huwwy. I can tell you'll need to." No one knew how to respond to that better than John.

"Shut up, Sherrock."


	7. Chapter 7

**You guys are a quiet bunch, aren't ya? I shall take your silence as a sign that I am doing well in this fic, and shall continue on how I am going. Oh, and this is a bit of a filler, I know. Bear with me.**

The Doctor took some of the formula and Sherlock's equipment in hopes finding a cure. It was an hour before John and Sherlock got bored and started fooling around with the Doctor's work. And of course it was immediately after Mycroft left to do his day job. (A "small position in the British Government," as he put it to the Doctor. They both knew better, though.)

After the 5th time Sherlock tried to fool around with the slides of the formula the Doctor had ready for the microscope he snapped. "ALL RIGHT! That's ENOUGH!" Sherlock stepped back like he had been slapped and John suddenly found the floor fascinating. "'M sowwy." Sherlock mumbled, and John added "Me, too."

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, no, I'm the one that needs to apologize. I can't expect 3-year-olds to act like 30-year-olds, now can I? Tell you what. We can head out to a playground, if you know a good one. Get changed, and we can talk." Both boys readily got dressed, Sherlock needing considerably more help than yesterday, which left the Doctor concerned. John too, but he was being affected by the psychic link between Sherlock and himself, and he felt others issues were more important. Such as, "So where can we go, anyway? I didn't exactwy think it important before now…"

Sherlock wasn't concerned with John's question. He knew exactly where they should go. He just searched around the bags Mycroft left until he found a miniature version of his beloved belstaff and handed John another coat meant for him. Inside he found Sherlock had placed a small wooden sword. Sherlock was smiling with an exact copy of the sword in his hands when John looked up. _Mycroft did say he wanted to be a pirate…_John thought. "I know exactly where to go! Follow me!" And he ran out the door with his coat tails flapping, the Doctor yelling at him to slow down, come back, let John and himself catch up, do _something_ besides what he was doing then. But he didn't listen until they ran to a decent sized playground. Sherlock drew his sword from his coat and above his head, grinning like an idiot. "Come on, John! Do you wanna help me find the tweashuh?"

John smiled. _When in Rome, I guess._ And with a loud "Aaaaarrr!" the two were tearing up the playground together. The Doctor smiled and sank onto a bench. Looking at the two running around, he was glad they had found each other. They were two pieces of the same two-piece puzzle, and he was glad they could release their energy together. "New to dealing with little kids are you?" A man came up from behind him. He had grey hair and tired eyes, and looked like he could have a few kids of his own. "If it helps, being a babysitter isn't the same as the full-time thing. Mind if I sit?"

"By all means." The man looked relieved and grateful when he shook the Doctor's hand. "Greg Lestrade of Scotland Yard. I was just heading home because of handling a particularly hard homicide that kept me up all night, and people were getting concerned."

The Doctor shook his hand. This was probably the man who got promoted to DI after the werewolf case. "I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor? But…Doctor who?" The Doctor was just about to explain "Yes, exactly," to the man when a cry rang out. "OW! Doctoooor!" John ran up. "Sherrock hit me on the head with his sword!" Sherlock ran up behind him. "John stawted it! He was cweating mutiny!"

"Was not!"

"Was so!"

Pretty soon the boys were rolling around in the dirt and the Doctor was futilely trying to stop them. Greg felt bad for the man, and with some effort separated the two boys from each other. "Come on, you two. Is now really the time for that?" They just huffed, but they didn't try to start it up again. Greg looked over to the Doctor. "You know, no offense, but I just don't think you're cut out for the babysitting business."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So...just to be weird I'm making telepathic conversations happen in this fic. They'll be placed in bold italics, okay? Katyuana-Yes, I saw that picture and just fell in love. This fic has chapters aplenty on my flash drive and on paper, so updates should be popping up every now and again. Blacklake100-I'm just giving you guys a hard time, so don't worry about feeling the need to review. And, like I said, plenty more to go. To my Guest reviewer-Your freak-out is appreciated, and while I have 6 exams to worry about next week (and I'm only in my first year of high school!) I'll try to keep updating quickly. (At least until I run out of prewritten chapters. Then it might take longer.)**

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Doctoooh! John keeps sticking me with his swowd!"

"I'm not doing everything _for_ you, Sherrock! Simple as that!"

"Is getting milk once in a while _weally_ that awful?"

"Sherrock, have you forgotten something?" John asked, mocking him with his own question he used just that morning.

"Quiet, you two. Just be glad Greg there was nice enough to give us a ride back home in his car."

"Who's Gweg?!"

"Reawwy, Sherrock? We've been over this." Greg looked back. He had been filled in on what was going on (and had felt the Doctor's two hearts for verification,) but it was still overwhelming to see the two men he once knew be no more than 3 years old. I mean, sure, they acted like that a lot, but this was a whole new _level!_ He just couldn't believe it.

"You should know I delete evewy one of those convewsations."

"Why?!"

"_Because_, John! They have _no use_ in my haw'd dwive!"

"Are you two always like this? Constantly arguing? Just be quiet and behave." As an afterthought, the Doctor added, "Or do I have to yell again?" The two froze. The Doctor didn't like to have to scare the boys stiff, but it was worth the moment's peace and quiet that followed.

Greg cleared his throat. "We're here." He immediately regretted it as Sherlock and John started crawling over the Doctor in the backseat to open the door and clamber out. "Oi! What do you two say to Greg?" Two chorused "Thank you"s rang out and the Doctor let them out of the car with a "That's much better."

Greg looked out at the two boys, then at the Doctor. "Do you need any extra hands with those two? I'd be happy to help out."

The Doctor's face melted into an expression of deep relief. "Would you? I've dealt with everything from Daleks to Silurians to Zygons, but nothing could prepare me for this. Thank you." Greg and the Doctor got out of the car.

"What do you mean you don't have the key? That's the only way we can get into the fwat, Sherrock!"

"You have a key too, John."

"It's in my normaw-sized jacket!"

"So why wouldn't mine be?" If looks could hill, John would have murdered Sherlock then and there. The Doctor placed his hands on each boys head to command their attention. Sherlock jumped. John smirked, and then it was Sherlock's turn to shoot daggers. The Doctor pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door to 221B Baker Street.

Sherlock ran in and flung himself into his chair. Or, more accurately, tried to. He actually had to climb up onto the chair first if he wanted to fall back into it. John climbed into his own chair and looked at Sherlock sprawled out. _**You're such a brick. **_Sherlock jumped. John blinked. _**We can hear each other's thoughts? Cool.**_

_**This doesn't make any sense. AT ALL!**_ Sherlock looked scared. John listened for Sherlock's thoughts and found fear in almost every one of them. _**Sherlock, calm down.**_ Sherlock shook his head and buried it in his knees. He started to tremble. _**If the psychic connection is this strong, I'm going to give you less of a chance of returning to normal.**_ He showed John why he was so scared. Apparently, he had problems controlling himself from the start. John tried to reassure him. _**Sherlock-,**_

_**No, John! It's not okay!**_ Sherlock was shaking hard now. John climbed over into his seat and pulled him into a hug. He placed his head on Sherlock's and willed him to go to sleep, hoping that it would work. When Sherlock finally obliged, sucking his fist to help him keep calm, John looked up to find the Doctor staring at them. John thought a while searching for what to say, and finally settling on, "You need to hurry, Doctor."

He just nodded and hurried away to check on Greg, who was apparently trying to help set up slides in the kitchen during all of this. Greg walked over and sat in John's chair. "I hope you don't mind, John."

"It's fine. I'm a wittwe busy with Sherrock, anyway." Greg shook his head. "I just can't believe this is happening."

"I know." John giggled. Then the giggle turned into a chuckle, the chuckle into a laugh. And the poor little blonde boy had tear tracks down his cheeks by the time his body collapsed into exhaustion, he and Sherlock leaning into each other for support.


	9. Chapter 9

Greg watched the boys sleep for a while, then walked over to the Doctor. "Those two are _really_ Sherlock Holmes and John Watson."

"Yes."

"Then please tell me you've made some progress."

"I've barely scratched the surface of the chemical make-up. Even if I could use my TARDIS to find a cure, it would still take too long!" The Doctor sighed. "At this point, I'm worried I'll just have to make sure they are as comfortable as possible in their new bodies."

"But please tell me you're not giving up?"

"No, but soon it will be too deeply wired in their brains that they should be acting like 3-year-olds to make a difference if we give them a cure." He rested his head on the microscope lens. "Then they would be…better off in a 3-year-old's body then a 30-something-year-olds. And I'm…I'm…letting them down. I'm letting them be turned into 3 again. I couldn't even stop them from drinking the formula in the first place. It's the Ponds all over again."

Greg had heard enough. "Doctor! Snap out of it! We still have time! There may not be a lot of it but there is still. Time. Left! I'm not about to lose some of the best men I know without a fight!"

The Doctor's head snapped up. "Wait! No! Hold on! Shut up a minute! I've got an idea! Can you watch the boys while I get to the TARDIS?"

"W-well, I guess I could for a couple minutes, but—"

"Perfect! A couple minutes is all I'll need! I'll be right back!" He rushed out the door, the formula in his hands.

* * *

The Doctor rushed into his TARDIS. "Sorry, Sexy, you aren't going to like what I'm about to do too much, but please, I need to help my friends." He stuck the bottle into a hole in the console. "I need the contents of this bottle in its chemical make-up, and something to stabilize its effects. It would take too long to make the cure right now." She groaned in protest, but in a minute dinged and produced two syringes filled with liquid and a list of the make-up of the stabilizer and the formula. "Thanks, old girl."

And grabbing everything, the Doctor rushed back to Baker Street, bounded up the 17 steps to the door, and burst into the living room a glint in his eye as he said, "I've got it!"

Greg looked up. "You've got what?! A cure?!"

"The next best thing: I have a stabilizer!" The Doctor said as he approached the two boys and injected the formula into Sherlock's arm. He gave a yelp and bolted up, waking John who was soon crying out as well when the Doctor did the same to him. "What was that?!" John yelled. "That _hurt_, Doctor! What was that?!"

"That was a stabilizer, preventing the 3-year-old side of you from gaining any more ground then it already has. And it looks like I gave it just in time." The Doctor said, throwing a pointed look at Sherlock, who had almost immediately fallen back asleep, unaware of what was going on around him. John nudged Sherlock awake. "No…John. Lemme…sleep…AH!" *thud* John pushed Sherlock onto the floor. "Stay up."

"Ow…"

"Oh, stop. It can't hurt _that_ much."

_**Yes it can, idiot.**_

_**Do you know how close you were to being gone, Sherlock?**_

_**No, and I really don't want to. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!**_

_**Fat chance, Sherlock. This is the only reason I even know you're still IN there right now.**_ Sherlock stopped rubbing his head and paled. _**What do you mean? I've been in here the whole time.**_

_**Well you're doing a good job of hiding it.**_

_**I'm not trying to.**_

_**Oh…Bit not good, then.**_

_**I'm pretty much gone except inside my mind…I'm sorry about this, John. I don't want to drag you down with me.**_

John smiled._** The Doctor gave us a stabilizer, you clot.**_

_**So…you're okay?**_

_**For now, yeah.**_

_**Good…John?**_

_**Yeah?**_

_**Will you let me sleep NOW? I'm still tired.**_

John laughed. If there was a telepathic tone for whining, that was it._** Only if I can be captain next time we play pirates.**_

Sherlock grabbed his sword. _**Absolutely not.**_

John leapt off Sherlock's chair, yelling, "Die, ye scurvy dog!" and grabbing his sword.

"Now hold on, you two." The Doctor interjected. "I want to check something. Sherlock, up on my lap please." He patted a spot next to him on the couch as he sat down, telling Sherlock to climb up. He did a deep scan of Sherlock's mind, much to the protest of the boy himself, who squirmed like crazy under the Doctor's grip. Finally he let up. "Okay, John, your turn." Sherlock scrambled off the Doctor's lap, scowling his best scowl at the invasion of privacy. Soon John was done too, and as the two started trying to kill each other with their swords, Greg raised the question, "So what are we eating for lunch?" He saw Mycroft enter out of the corner of his eye. "Well, if you all don't mind I went ahead and bought lunch for everyone already."

"My!" Sherlock yelled indignantly as he threw his sword at the intruder. Mycroft smirked and caught it with his hand that wasn't carrying lunch. "Good to see some things never change."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm nearing the end of my typed-up chapters, here, folks. It might take longer then usual soon. Fair warning. Thanks to my guest reviewer! I can't stress enough how even just someone saying its cute or funny or likeable makes my day.**

For lunch, Sherlock and John feasted on chicken nuggets and French fries from some fast food place Mycroft "just happened" to see on his way over, while the adults in the room decided on sandwiches after looking at the assorted food Mycroft bought so no one would be eating Sherlock's experiments, knowingly or unknowingly. "So how are they now?" Mycroft asked, dreading the answer.

"Well, they slipped a little bit, but right before you came I gave them a stabilizer for their systems, so the only problem now is bringing them back to normal. Or at least as normal as those two will get." The Doctor explained. "Oh, and I don't know if this is weird or not, but Sherlock has barely spoken since he woke up from his nap when I gave him the stabilizer. Does that mean anything to you?" Sherlock froze at hearing this, scared of what might happen next. _**John, help me out here. If I really am only myself in my thoughts, things are going to get really bad REALLY FAST!**_

_**Sherlock, if I knew how to help you, I would.**_

_**Oh, sure, because that makes everything great.**_

"Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, noting his reaction.

_**JOHN! PLEASE!**_

_**Sherlock, I can't!**_

"Sherlock, come here." Mycroft was losing his patience. So Sherlock did the only thing he could think of to get out. He screamed "NO!" as loud as he could and fled to his room. He slammed the door and being too small and in too much of a hurry to lock it or even barricade the door in some way, he opted to hide in his closet. "Sherlock Holmes, now is really not the time!" Mycroft yelled.

_If he is using the full name card, he must be mad,_ Sherlock thought. But he didn't say anything. He just curled up into a ball in a corner of his closet and shut everything else out. Mycroft knocked on the closet door and said in a much calmer voice, "I know you're in there, Sherlock. Come out, please."

Sherlock didn't reply; he just curled up tighter. Mycroft opened the closet door to a tightly wound ball of white and black. The ball didn't move. Mycroft sighed and lifted his little brother up and out of the closet by his legs. He screamed. Mycroft carried him into the living room and held him over his chair. John decided to join Sherlock in screaming, only with coherent sentences. "Mycroft, stop! You're hurting him!" Mycroft wouldn't listen, so John grabbed his wooden sword and hit Mycroft as hard as he could. Mycroft dropped Sherlock in favor of holding his now injured leg and Sherlock landed on the chair, tumble-rolling onto the floor. "Are you okay, Sherrock?"

He swallowed and nodded. _**I'm fine.**_ But he wouldn't stop panting and he wouldn't get up. John sat down next to him and squeezed his hand._** No, you're not. You really need to stop getting into situations like that.**_ Sherlock just offered a small smile while blinking back tears of fear and pain and a bit of laughter at what had just happened. _**Come here, you clot.**_ Sherlock sat up and clung to John like he was dry land in the middle of a stormy sea, which actually wasn't too far from the truth, since Mycroft had finally recovered. "And just _what_," Mycroft said between the last few gasps of pain, "did you think you were doing back there?"

"You were hurting Sherrock. I was just making sure he was okay." John said evenly.

"And how would you know that he wasn't just surprised or angry, _Doctor_ Watson?" He said the last part with as much sarcasm as he could muster, annoyed that the young boy could hurt his leg so badly. John looked at him straight in the eye, not flinching at the look he received in return, and said, "Because I can feew it to, Mycroft. I can feew Sherrock's pain with him because of the psychic wink." John looked back at Sherlock. "And neither one of us appreciate what you did."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: kathaka9- Thank you! While I doubt *somewhat* that there are so few fics about this, it's nice to know you like it! There shall be more updates!**

Sherlock was quiet for a while after that reveal. At first John thought he was mad at him, but then he started to snore and John realized Sherlock was just too tired after everything to face the room. John smiled and tried to disentangle himself from Sherlock's grip. When he did, Sherlock just immediately switched from snuggling John to sucking his fist, instead. He looked up to see the Doctor staring at him again. They were the only 3 left in the room. "Stop staring at me, Doctor. It's getting reawwy annoying."

"Sorry, sorry, it's just a psychic link that strong is really rare. You can read each other's mind or feel each other's pain. I mean outside of identical twins that kind of connection…and I knew some people who could read each other's thoughts, so it's not strictly impossible before this. Out of curiosity, can you feel each other's emotions? Outside of pain, I mean." John nodded. "Interesting…" the Doctor muttered under his breath.

But John couldn't quite hear him. Sherlock was messing around inside his head and making him sleepy. _**Sherlock, quit messing around. My brain is not a toy…**_

The next thing John knew, he was lying on a cobblestone path. "Need a hand?" John looked up and was shocked at what he saw. Sherlock was standing there, his old self, in front of a magnificent medieval castle. John propped himself up on his elbows after finding out he was normal again, too, just drinking in the view. "Sherlock. Where are we?"

Sherlock smiled and pulled John up. "Welcome to my Mind Palace, John."

* * *

"It's an interesting place, my Mind Palace. The outward design is always medieval, but the inside is always changing. Sometimes it looks modern, sometimes it looks like it came straight out of _Merlin_," John mentally added the surprise of Sherlock liking _Merlin_ to his list of Sherlock's odd quirks, along with liking _The Hobbit,_ and_ Lord of the Rings_, John was beginning to notice a pattern, "Once it even looked like Buckingham Palace. I decided to wander around in my bed sheet that day." Both men burst out laughing. When they finally calmed down, John asked, "Why did you bring me here?"

The smile was wiped off of Sherlock's face. "I need a favor."

"I'm listening."

"Well, my transport as you know is extremely compromised…" John's eyes narrowed. "I know. We _both_ took that formula, you clot." Sherlock cleared his throat. "Yes, well, mine is a bit…more so."

"How much more?"

Sherlock grimaced. "I can't get my mouth to move like it should anymore. I…really can't talk that well."

John cracked a smile. "Do you want me to be your mouth?"

Sherlock blushed. "It's not funny!"

John stopped smiling. "No, no, I realize that. I'll help you."

"Thank you. Now, if I'm not mistaken, I think somebody wants us to wake up. You first."

John was ripped from the Mind Palace and placed back into his own body. He cracked one eye open. Mycroft was leaning over him, exasperation written on his face. "Wha' d'you want, Mycroft?"

Mycroft looked down at him and grimaced. "How do you wake up Sherlock? None of the old tricks I know work and we wanted both of your inputs on plans we were about to discuss."

"Hang on." John said. He stood up, grabbed Billy, then chucked him at Sherlock's head. "Mornin' sweepy head."

"Shut up, John."

Mycroft cleared his throat. Sherlock just glared. Mycroft lunged for him and John and carried them to the kitchen. Sherlock crossed his arms in his chair. _**This is stupid, couldn't it have waited?**_

_**You said yourself you can't speak Sherlock. No, it can't.**_

_**When you two are done arguing, we really would like to get started.**_ The Doctor interjected. Both boys jumped. The Doctor smiled. "Done now?" Sherlock scowled and huffed. John mumbled something inaudible. "Well, then, let's get started."


	12. Chapter 12

They went around the table, asking questions and posing theories. The Doctor said the TARDIS could eventually find a cure, but by then it could be too late. Mycroft offered to put a team of scientists together. Greg offered to stretch them to normal height. (The glares he received were answer enough.) _**This is pointless, John. I'd be better off waiting another year or so until I can speak properly again.**_

_**Sherlock, come on. You hate waiting. Why now?**_

_**Because I hate false hope more. John, I'm going to be stuck like this until I grow up normally again! It's not going to work.**_ John felt all kinds of stormy feelings from Sherlock. _**Sherlock, stop it. STOP IT!**_ He wouldn't. So John glared and sent some back. _**Stop, John! STOP! **_Sherlock started pressing his hands to the side of his head. Mycroft looked at Sherlock with concern, while the Doctor sent John a look. John stopped.

Sherlock whispered something into Mycroft's ear, and he nodded. Sherlock slid out of his chair and walked off to his room. Mycroft looked at John for a moment, examining all of his body signals. "Feel free to leave if you're still tired, John." John shook his head. He fell asleep in his spot 5 minutes later. The Doctor picked him up and carried him to his room. John was roused awake by the motion, but he was too tired at that point to say anything. The Doctor whispered, "John, I know that I gave you a stabilizer to help keep you at this point, but you're probably going to have to deal with one more change." John nodded the Doctor's cue to continue. "You and Sherlock are still linked. Very strongly, from what I've seen today. Which means that you might slip as far as Sherlock has. You won't slip any farther, but it could still be a shock, and I wanted to warn you, okay?" John nodded again, his eyes glazed over. "I see it already started. Just let me know when you wake up, okay?" John nodded one final time before he fell onto his pillow and slept not unlike he was in a coma. The Doctor kissed his head and pulled a blanket over him. "I'm so sorry, John." He turned around to see Sherlock standing in the door frame. _**I thought he was safe against further changes, Doctor.**_

The Doctor sat on the edge of John's bed. "Why won't you talk anymore?"

Sherlock shook his head. _**I have my reasons.**_

"Such as?"

_**I couldn't talk when I was three.**_

"Could anyone? There's no shame in that, Sherlock."

…_**Yes there is.**_

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that!" The Doctor snatched Sherlock and carried him over to the bed. "No! Lemme go! Lemme dow'! No! NO!"

"Now is it really so hard to talk?"

"'S humiating."

"Sherlock, you're 3. Anything humiliating you might do can be chalked up to that."

Sherlock just stared in response. "So you're done talking. Okay. Then listen to me talk." And the Doctor talked about everything from the color of the sky to the mechanics of the TARDIS. Sherlock drank it all in. "See? There's nothing to it. If I can do that than so can you." The Doctor finished. Sherlock blinked. "He got you, Sherrock." John said sleepily, "Izit reawwy so bad to sound wika kid?"

"Yeah. Oviuhsly."

"'S not."

"Sowta is, John."

"Uh-uh."

"Yessis! Don'b stupid!"

_**Shut up, Sherlock.**_

_**Gladly.**_

"You two really need to learn to behave with each other. You know what that word _means_, right? Behave?" The two boys ignored him. "If you two don't stop, I can send you down to Greg."

Silence. "Or, I could even send you down to Mycroft." Two chorused "NO!"s rang out.

Mycroft cleared his throat in the doorway. "Am I really that unwanted?" he asked, exaggerated hurt crossing his features. "Goway, My! We don' need you!" Mycroft smiled. A genuine smile that said _that is the cutest thing ever._ "I said goway!" Sherlock yelled. Mycroft's smile got bigger. Sherlock was getting madder every second. Mycroft started laughing. Then he laughed harder, then harder. "Stah insultin' me, Mycwoft! 'S no' funny!" Mycroft decided to retreat, still laughing, before Sherlock decided to start throwing things. Greg on the other hand, poked his head in with a smirk on his face, and nearly got it smashed from John's gun flying at a high velocity. "'S no' funny," Sherlock sulked. John laughed.


	13. Chapter 13

**What happens during this chapter may not be entirely accurate to what happens during a panic or an asthma attack. I am just a fanfiction writer. DO NOT take what I say in these chapters as what to be what actually happens during these events.**

**The One with Purple Headphones- Thank you! I actually read _your_ fic on the exact some subject, and I can say the same thing! (Sorry, that may be a little too much unwanted attention...but in all honesty, yeah. Same thing, and thank you.)**

* * *

When Sherlock finally calmed down enough to leave John's room (according to the Doctor) he refused until the Doctor made absolutely sure no one was outside the room waiting for him. No one was. Sherlock sulked down the steps, not looking at anything, and just curling up into a ball on the sofa. The Doctor came and went to his TARDIS to do some work, and after a while, John entered the room. "Sherrock, wha's your probwem?"

He wouldn't say anything. He wouldn't even blink. "Sherrock, this izn' funny."

Nothing.

_**SHERLOCK!**_

No reply.

"Sher…lock…?" John poked him, scared of his reaction. He blinked, then focused on John. "Mmm? Wha's it?" He squinted. "Why'we you s'pale?" He got crushed into a hug. "Sherlock! You're okay!"

"Mmmph! Mm mmph!"

John released him slightly. "Oh, sorry."

"'Course 'm'kay, John. Wassa mattew?"

"You…you weren't doing anything…and you weren't even _blinking_…and…"

"Mind Palace, John."

"You don't go into the fetal position over your Mind Palace, Sherlock."

"You can say 'L's again?"

"Don't change the subject!"

"…Sowwy…if I scawed you. But I was jus' thinkin'."

John stared at Sherlock a while. He was hiding something, that much was obvious. He smirked inwardly at the thought that Sherlock was once a terrible liar. But what he was hiding, he couldn't say. "Sherlock, you need to say if something's wrong…" He had zoned out again. "Ah, _Sherlock_…" He poked him again to get him to focus again. Except this time, Sherlock didn't blink. He shook Sherlock, slapped him, pulled him off the couch. The most he did was screw his eyes shut. His breathing got heavier and more ragged. It looked like he was having a panic attack. _**What do I do, what do I do? Sherlock, how can I help?!**_ He knew he should be able to handle this. He had been trained as an army doctor, after all. But for the life of him (or Sherlock) he couldn't remember what he _needed to do_. He ran out of the room to look for anyone still in the flat. Mycroft's lunch break had ended, Greg had gone home to finally get some sleep, and the Doctor had gone to the TARDIS, as he said as much in a note. John ran back to Sherlock, and he seemed to be whispering something. Something like…his bedside table? John ran into his room and looked around it. He opened a drawer, and inside was…_an inhaler?!_ John didn't have time to question it. He rushed out and placed it in Sherlock's hand. He immediately ripped off the cap and took two deep puffs. His breathing steadied. "Thank…you…John."

"Sherlock, why didn't you _tell_ me you were asthmatic?! Do you have _any clue_ how scary that was?!"

Sherlock opened his eyes and took a steadying breath. "'S not 'mpowtant."

"Not…?! Sherlock, that's _hugely_ important! You just had a _panic attack_ and you _couldn't breathe_! Why…?! You can't just ignore that!"

Sherlock winced and scratched the back of his head with the little inhaler he had unconsciously tightened his grip on. "I hate people treatin' me differently 'cause of it." He looked down. "They'd be fake-nice to me or they'd towment me whenevew they saw it. I fowced myself to gwow out of it."

"What're your triggers…?"

"Smoke, stwess, and excessive excewsize."

John laughed. "All the things you'd do on a regular basis, then."

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "Pwetty much." Just then they heard a doorknob rattle and someone mutter something unintelligible as they kicked the entrance door. Then they heard a familiar Irish lilt say, "Well, you wouldn't expect them to leave their flat unlocked while they had two children in there, would you?" The boy's blood froze. "Moriawty? Now?!" Sherlock wheezed. John grabbed his arm. "Come on!" They ran as quickly and quietly as they could to find a good hiding spot.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sooooo...I was considering going on hiatus to build tension for this chapter, but then I came to a realization: I'm not Moffat or Gatiss. So, I decided to give you guys the next chapter now.**

**fezwearingjellybananas- a) I LOVE your pen name b) Thank you! I'm worried about my chapters now that I'm making them on the cuff, so hopefully you'll still enjoy it after I run out of pre-written things. (Because I pre-wrote during exams, I had 16 chapters stockpiled.)**

**kathaka9- Yeah, I have a lot of chapters on my flash drive just sitting there. (The aforementioned infamous chapter 16 has been transferred to the computer world already too.) So hopefully I'll stay nice and keep uploading chapters quickly. I'll try my hardest not to let you down!**

** .freak98-Your review made me jump up and down throughout my house yesterday. I couldn't really ask for a nicer review! I hope that my on-the-cuff Word document chapters meet that review as well as my others! *fingers crossed***

**Oh, the expectations to meet...**

Jim wasn't known for his patience. But when he saw two little boys running around 221B, he knew that a prize like that would be worth a 2 day wait. He grabbed Sebastian and headed out to the flat, as soon as he saw that the 3 men had accidentally left the boys alone. He waltzed into the flat as soon as it was open (honestly, as good of a sniper that he was; Sebastian could be so _slow_ sometimes!) and surveyed the room. The boys had left the room in a hurry, one of them was even careless enough to leave an inhaler behind. "Apples, peaches, pumpkin pie! Who's not ready, holler 'I'!" He sang. He was met with silence. "Sebby, you search down here, I'll check upstairs." He said, making his way like a hound dog on the scent. He checked the bathroom, the hallway closet, and finally made his way to John's room. From the moment he entered he heard a faint wheezing. It was coming from under the bed. "Does someone need their inhaler?" Jim asked as he threw a corner of the bedspread up to find two boys curled up underneath.

"Sebby, come see what I found!"

There was a pounding of feet and a quick gasp of laughter and the two boys were being carried down into the kitchen.

* * *

Once in the kitchen Sherlock snatched his inhaler back from its spot on the table. He couldn't stop shaking. Moriarty apparently found this hilarious. John wasn't nearly as pale and kept squeezing Sherlock's hand when his fear started to become overwhelming. "So boys. Here is what I'm thinking. You tell the truth, no one gets hurt. However, you tell a _lie_…" Moriarty's eyes flashed with danger. "Well, there's more than one way to skin a cat."

John cleared his throat, sensing he needed to take charge. "So whaddaya wanna know?"

"Well, let's start out simply. Just so I know you can actually think. Who are you?"

John almost laughed. "Are you kidding? You really don't remember us? You strapped me to a bomb at a pool and made me look like the bad guy in your twisted game with Sherlock. You said I was my friend here's 'pet' and that he was getting too 'sentimental' about me. Don't you remember us? Or have we changed that much?"

_**John, you're pushing Moriarty. Are you sure that's a good idea?**_

_**Do you have a better one?**_

…

"Nice try. But you two are not Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. I don't forget a face. Now, _who are you_?"

_**Sherlock, would my scar still be on my shoulder like this?**_

…_**I don't know. Maybe?**_

"Well? Who are you?"

John turned his back to Moriarty and lifted his shirt up and over his shoulder. _**The scar is still there, John.**_

John turned around. Moriarty's jaw had dropped open. "Sebastian?" He called. The sniper looked into the kitchen. "Yeah?"

"Get the car ready, will you?"

"All right."

John smiled at Moriarty as he straightened his shirt. "You might forget my face, but I knew you wouldn't forget the scar."

"We'we so _dead_, John. _So dead_." Sherlock whispered, panicked.

"Not quite yet." He whispered back. "When I say run, you run, okay?"

"Where to?"

"Just anywhere safe, Sherlock. Anywhere safe."

"You two have a lot of explaining to do, boys."

John smiled. "Nope. Not yet. RUN!"

Sherlock and John bolted out of the flat and onto the street, past Moran, and kept on running. They ran a few blocks, then ducked into an alleyway. In that alleyway, coincidence of all coincidences, was a big blue police box, fading in and out of reality. The boys pounded on it, having recognized it as being the Doctor's TARDIS (though neither had seen it up close.) It faded out of existence entirely before the Doctor could notice. Just like that, the alleyway wasn't an escape route anymore, it was a dead end. A dead end with a psychopath at its only exit. Sherlock groaned in dismay. "Now what we gonna do?"

"I-I don't…know, Sherlock. You're the one with all the plans!"

"Not 'nymore!" Sherlock wheezed, "I can't talk swaight, let 'lone make a plan!"

"Sherlock, calm down or you'll use up your inhaler!"

Sherlock crouched behind John, tightened his grip on his inhaler just in case, and nodded. _**I don't think we can get out of this one, Sherlock.**_

_**I know. We don't even have a gun and a bomb to make a stalemate.**_

_**Heh heh…so what do we do?**_

_**I can't risk anything like that again, John.**_

_**Don't worry, Sherlock. It's fine to be scared.**_

_**Stay with me on this?**_

_**Of course.**_ John gripped Sherlock's free hand. _**So should we surrender?**_

"'M weady when you awe, John."

John took a deep breath, and led Sherlock and himself towards Moriarty. The man smirked and remarked in a high-pitched baby voice, "So little Johnny and little Sherly finally decided to come and play?" John just glared. Sherlock held his hand a little tighter. "You don't have to be so rude, Johnny-boy."

"And you don't have to kidnap us from our flat, yet here you are. With a black car. And I'm assuming your personal body guard."

"Sniper, Johnny. Sniper." John just rolled his eyes. He had to keep the act up to keep Sherlock from breaking down. "Does it matter?"

"It does when you're talking about Sebastian Moran. Best sniper I could find. And my reach goes a looooong way."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Sound indifferent. Bored. Good.

"Well, if you aren't, I'm sure that I could arrange a demonstration for you. Maybe even on Sherlock?" John paled. His bravado shattered at that threat, he reluctantly shook his head. "No, thanks."

Moriarty smiled as Moran drove up. "Well, let's go back to your flat, then. We have some things to discuss."

**...Oh, and I almost forgot to mention: When I was looking at my view counter the other day, the number said 1,234! OCDness fulfilled! 1-2-3-4! *Squeal!***


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: paula. - Sorry, no rescue crew, just two boys and Moriarty...**

**Or is it? ;-)**

**Here's the next chapter, guys!**

"Why our flat?" John asked once everyone was in the car.

Moriarty glanced back at him. "What?"

"Why're we going to Sherlock's and my-"

"_Our_ would work better, Johnny."

"-_OUR_ flat? You had the car get ready and everything, but now we're just going back? Why?"

"_Changeable_." Moriarty pointed to himself. And that was all the answer he would offer. "Why are _you_ suddenly the one with the mouth? Sherlock's the one who's scared of me? Not that I'm complaining, of course, but why?"

"Sherlock took more of the formula that changed us. He's younger then I am," John tapped his head, "Up here."

_**John, what are you doing?! That's not true!**_

_**Maybe not, but it might take you out of the line of fire.**_

As if to prove his point, Moriarty pouted and said, "It's a shame my favorite toy is broken. I could've had so much fun." He smiled at Sherlock. "You and I will just have to find a different game to play then." Sherlock, ever trying to be the actor, looked hopefully up at him when he mentioned playing games. "Will i' be mowe funnew?" he asked.

Moriarty looked at John, eyebrows raised in surprise. John just shrugged in an _I told you so_ gesture. "Yeah, I'll try and make it more fun, Sherlock."

"'M'kay!" Sherlock said happily, appearing to decide the man up front wasn't so bad if he would play games with him. _**How are you such a terrible liar but such a good actor?**_

_**I'm not completely acting, quite simply.**_

…_**Oh… …**_

Sherlock leaned against John and swung his legs slowly. _***sigh*…Yeah…Hold on. **_"Ah we thewe yet?" he whined.

"Actually, yeah." Moran said. Sherlock cheered and made for the door. "Sherlock, slow down!" John rushed out. Moriarty waltzed out and walked the two boys inside. Sherlock dragged Moriarty to a bookshelf and pulled down an old Clue board. "Wanna play?"

"Please. It's obvious the victim did it." Moriarty sneered.

"Hate to break it to you, but the box says he was murdered." Moran interjected.

"Sebastian, please. The victim obviously made it look like a murder, and you have to figure out what it looked like. I play where the winner says how he staged his own 'murder.'"

Sherlock clapped his hands. "Fun! Now you've gotta play! You've gotta!"

"Okay, okay! I have to warn you, though, I'm very good."

"So 'm I!"

"Cocky, aren't you?"

And that started the two's Clue tourney. They were tied 6-for-6 when Moran sat down on the couch with John and started talking to him. "Is it hard seeing him like that?"

"'S harder to know he might not come back."

"Can't imagine."

"Be glad you don't have to."

"How long…?"

"A day or two."

"Fast-acting, then."

John sighed. "I just hope that if he goes, I'll be there with him."

"Isn't there a cure?"

"…Not right away, no. So I'm just holding out hope he…he'd…" John buried his head in his hands and took a shaky breath. "He'd be okay during any changes." Moran patted John's back uncertainly. "There's still a chance of a cure, though, right? You still have a reason to hold out hope?"

John shook his head. "I think he'd be better like this, now." Tears pricked the back of his eyes. "And he left me behind again."

"Oh, don't say that. You never know." John found himself being lifted into a hug. He hugged back uncertainly at first, but he was soon crying into Moran's shoulder as he was soothed into a light sleep and laid down on the couch. Sherlock had passed out from excitement and exhaustion after he beat Moriarty 7 out of 13. "Easy as taking candy from a baby." Moran muttered.

"Easier," Moriarty corrected, standing up. "Those two will believe anything we say if it's said right."

"You'll never believe what I found out from Watson…" Moran whispered excitedly.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: LONG CHAPTER ALERT! LONG CHAPTER ALERT! BE PREPARED FOR A LONG CHAPTEEEEERRRR! ...I fulfilled my OCD by waiting a week to update, it only seems fair that you guys get something longer.**

**sunfuzzies- I can't tell if you're being sarcastic with your Moriarty comment, but he's like, my favorite character (though I am partial to Mycroft...and a personality quiz I took says I would be him...Mycroft, I mean, but I enjoy Mycroft for fall-guy purposes...but I digress.) Thanks, and I will be updating, but maybe not as quickly, idk.**

**paula. - Mycroft and the Doctor come back, but not-quite-on-purpose-in-a-rescue-attempt kind of way, more like a I'm-done-with-what-I-have-to-do-and-want-to-check-on-the-boys kind of way. And ooh, just wait until you reach around chapter 20...PLOT TWIST (sssshhhhhh!) Don't worry, it won't be in the way you expect, hopefully it'll still be a shock...*bursts into conspiratorial giggles***

**Oh, and I finished watching season 3 of Sherlock yesterday!**

**...Did you miss me?**

Sherlock woke up to yelling. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. John was sitting on their couch, looking for all the world like he had a gun pressed to his head. _**John? What's going on?**_

_**Sherlock!**_ John looked over at him. _**Mycroft has been in a shouting match for an hour! How could you sleep?!**_

_**I'm just used to it, I guess. Who's he yelling with?**_ Sherlock sat on the couch with John. Moriarty's voice came suddenly from somewhere inside the flat. "Ah."

"Yeah…"

"An houw?"

John nodded. Sherlock hugged him. "I'm so, so sowwy."

The Doctor walked into the flat. "Those two are still at it, eh? It's getting a little old. Personally, I would've just shoved those two that were here when I came back without a second thought. Oh! Sherlock, good, you're up." He knelt in front of Sherlock. "Do you remember _anything_ from your old life?"

Sherlock looked at him blankly. Why would he ask that? Of course he remembered…oh, right. John used that excuse on Moriarty. It would make sense to keep that up for everyone else.

Not getting an answer, the Doctor patted Sherlock's shoulder, assuming the worst. "Don't worry, Sherlock. I'll find a cure, and we can work on recovering your memory, too." He smiled sadly, and Sherlock returned the smile with a little giggle too. Couldn't hurt.

"LISTEN, YOU-!"

Sherlock jumped. Those two were getting heated. A few more coherent words were exchanged, but Sherlock was no longer listening, more concerned with the deteriorating status of his own sanity to attend to.

Mycroft came down from John's room, where the argument had taken place. He was red in the face and looked like he could throttle someone with one hand. This was why he tried never to get angry. It never was a thing to be controlled. He took a few breaths to calm himself down, then look at the situation in the living room. He looked over at the couch to find Sherlock curled up on it next to John, whispering to himself. The Doctor had seen an opportunity to come back to the flat and not get immediately scorned, and had taken it. He was looking through the books scattered around to find one to read. John looked up, his face asking his unsaid question. _Is Moriarty going to leave and follow Moran?_ Mycroft shook his head. His argument had only strengthened the psychopath's decision to stay, under the threat of shooting the boys if he was forced to leave.

John looked over at Sherlock and nudged him. Sherlock looked up, mid-whisper. He looked at Mycroft, confused for a moment, then came to a conclusion about something and half walked, half tripped over to Mycroft. Mycroft looked down. "What is it, Sher?" Using the name he had for Sherlock as a kid made him have a very brief wave of nostalgia. He batted it away. "Is something wrong?" Sherlock latched on to his leg and wouldn't let go. He mumbled something like "Don' leamme 'gain," and gripped his leg tighter. Mycroft lifted him off his leg in favor of carrying his brother. "Wouldn't dream of it, Sher." He walked over to sit in Sherlock's chair. He looked at John questioningly. Sherlock was never one to show emotion. Ever. "I don't know! You're his brother!"

"He has a point…HA!" The Doctor exclaimed. "I knew you two would have a book on anatomy somewhere!"

"Do you think it will help?" John asked.

"What? No, not particularly. I just wanted to find out what makes you humans tick." The Doctor said. Mycroft sighed. "So, you're out of ideas?"

"The 23rd century didn't develop the formula's antidote. I don't know where else to look."

John looked at the Doctor. "How did you get the stabilizer, though?"

"It's not as if it worked. What's the point if it doesn't work?"

John hesitated. He couldn't reveal Sherlock to be normal still, because that would mean huge trouble. But he couldn't give up an opportunity for a cure! He tried to come up with some workable excuse. "What if Sherlock just needed more of it to work? A tolerance to drugs, or something."

The Doctor shook his head. "This kind of thing doesn't get stronger if you haven't taken drugs. Stupid 23rd-century engineering. May as well just give it up right now."

Sherlock was mumbling, trying to say something.

"What is it, Sherlock?" The Doctor asked, his curiosity winning out over hopelessness.

"You can't give up yet! I don't want to be stuck like this 3 decades until I'm the same by taking the long way! Going through pubewty once was enough! Find a solution!" He yelled. Then his head drooped, and when he looked up again his eyes had lost their focus they had a moment before. Mycroft looked down at him. "What was that about?"

Sherlock just sucked his fist in response. "Wha'?"

"His true consciousness must have been momentarily completely restored! That means there's still hope for a cure!" The Doctor exclaimed excitedly, jumping up.

"Fascinating." Moriarty said, leaning against a wall. "So there really is a possibility of a cure?"

John glared. "What's it to you?"

"I want my favorite toy fixed. It was always fun to play with." He walked over near Sherlock and smiled at him. Sherlock stared back. "Can I help?"

"What?"

"Can I help fix youw toy?"

Moriarty laughed. "I don't think so, Sherlock. But if you can, I'll let you know, okay?"

Sherlock nodded and leaned back into Mycroft. "He's lyin', My." He muttered. Mycroft laughed. "Of course, Sher. I wouldn't expect any more of him." Mock hurt formed on Moriarty's face. "What would make you say that?"

"You'we hands."

"What about them?"

Sherlock just smiled and wouldn't say any more. "If you won't tell me, then I guess I'll just go. I've got a job tomorrow anyway. Call me when you get better, hm?" And he waltzed out the door without another word. John waited a minute, until you could see Moriarty on the street through the window, and then burst out laughing. "That…was amazing! You got him to leave and no one got hurt! Hahahaha! Brilliant!"

Sherlock just smiled. _**Would you expect any less?**_

John shook his head. "Heh heh…*hic* Sherlock… You really know how to act, I'll give you that." He sobered up. "Sorry about making you act like that for Moriarty. I've got to warn you, he might've filmed you."

Sherlock slid onto the floor and walked over to John. "I'm still hewe, though. If you think I leave that 'sily, you'we a biggew idiot than Andewson, John." He gave him a shove. "I don't go wi'out a fight."

"Except when it comes to Moriarty, apparently." Mycroft noted. Sherlock almost seemed to start wheezing again. Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Just use your inhaler, Sherlock."

"I did! 'N don'talk 'bout that. I had to do it." He muttered. "Now at least he thinks I'm weally thwee and John's gonna be soon. He'll leave us 'lone."

"And if he didn't?" Mycroft asked cooly. _The calm before the storm,_ Sherlock thought. "I knew he would 'ventully."

"But. If. He. Didn't. You took a completely unnecessary risk back there, Sherlock! You could have gotten yourself and John killed!"

"It coulda happened anyway." He scowled.

"Sherlock's right." The Doctor said.

"Sorry, _what_?"

"I said, Sherlock's right. The danger didn't increase or decrease in the situation he created and now–Moriarty, was it?-will leave us alone for a little while, giving us much needed time." And as an afterthought, "Especially since not all of Sherlock's 'acting' was actually acting." He glanced over at Sherlock. "The Sherlock I know would never do some of the things he's doing now."

Sherlock glanced down. The Doctor was right, of course, not everything he did was called for. He wasn't the same detective who had worked on the werewolf case to find out a secret about the Queen's lineage. But…a part of him just couldn't help it. It just felt…right. John sensed Sherlock's discomfort, and brought up dinner as a change of topic. Then he played board games with Sherlock until the sun set and the words they both wanted to hear rang out in the flat: "Boys! Time for dinner!"


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: sunfuzzies -Okay, it's all good. =) I'll try to keep writing, and trust me, chapter after this one? *heheheh...* Just you wait.**

Dinner was okay, in the sense that nothing had exploded in anyone's face. The Doctor had found pasta noodles in one of the kitchen cabinets, and made spaghetti enough for 6, so there was more than enough to go around. Mycroft and the Doctor finished early, making sure to keep an eye on the two boys if they needed help. John wound up being fine, while Sherlock needed a little help remembering how to keep spaghetti on a fork, but once he remembered, both boys were relatively okay. Then Sherlock tried to scoop up a particularly big bite of spaghetti. It flipped up into the air at a sudden lack of give when he lifted it off the plate. Time froze. The spaghetti made a perfect arc and hung in the air what seemed like half a minute before crashing to earth…

…Right on John's forehead. He just sat there a moment, crossing his eyes, trying to see the offending object. Then he looked at Sherlock and narrowed his eyes. "Oh, it is _so_ on." He flung a big forkful of his own back at Sherlock. It hit right between his eyes. "FOOD FIGHT!" Sherlock yelled gleefully. He skipped the fork this time in favor of his hands. *THWOP THWOP!* "Two diwect hits! Hahaha!"

"Sherlock, you're so dead!" *THWOP!*

With that, the two boys we running around the kitchen, throwing steaming handfuls of spaghetti at each other, at the refrigerator, the cabinets, and The Doctor and Mycroft in the midst of it all trying to stop the two from destroying every conceivable surface. "SHERLOCK HOLMES! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!" Mycroft yelled. Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks, spaghetti and sauce alike on his face, on his hands, his clothes, and a few stray clumps lodged into his curls. John started to sneak away, but stopped when he backed into the Doctor. "Going somewhere?" He asked, best no-nonsense look on his face that he usually reserved for Daleks. The Doctor looked him over. He got the better end of the fight by far. He had almost no noodles on him, just sauce. John and Sherlock looked up at Mycroft and The Doctor, thoroughly afraid and just the tiniest bit confused. "We were just playing…" John tried weakly. The Doctor just picked him up and carried him out of the room. Sherlock followed close at his heels. It was in this way they all entered the bathroom. The Doctor started the water for a bath. He looked at the two boys. "You two may have just been playing, but now both of you are huge messes. And that means taking a bath."

Sherlock groaned. John blushed. "Can we do it alone, or will you be…" he couldn't finish. He was _not_ about to be naked in the same room with anyone else in the flat.

"You can take it alone if it makes you feel better, John. Just let me know if you need help. Now, who's going first?" He asked. He looked at Sherlock. "That would be you, Sherlock." Sherlock groaned. John walked out of the room to give some privacy to those two. Sherlock wouldn't like if John were in there when he was taking a bath if he went back to normal. No, not if, when. _When_ he went back to normal. He walked out into the living room. Mycroft looked at him. "I take it Sherlock's the first one to take a bath then."

John was just about to say yes, but erupted into a fit of coughs. He cleared his throat. "Yeah." His voice was scratchy. "Do we have any juice here? My throat hurts." He coughed again.

Mycroft stood up. "I'll check…you only have apple juice here. Will that be all right?"

"Yeah, thanks." John drank an entire cup of the juice. It was really sweet, sweeter than what he was used to, but still, it helped his throat, and it actually made him feel like standing a little taller by the time Sherlock walked out, sulking in a fresh pair of pajamas. The Doctor walked out of the bathroom a minute later, soaked to the bone. John laughed. The Doctor pulled a face. "It's all ready for you, John." He walked over to the bathroom but was stopped short by the Doctor. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing…" He muttered. John took his bath and changed into his pajamas easily, though the legs came up a little above his ankles. _Mycroft must have misguessed my size,_ he thought. He walked out into the living room, rubbing one eye. He told the Doctor he was going to bed. The Doctor looked at him funnily again, but said all right and John crawled into his bed, wondering what the problem was. If only he knew what was waiting for him the next morning.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Today's my birthday~ Today's my birthdaaayyyyyy~ So I'm celebratin' with a new chapter!**

**...Doctor Who, Sherlock, The Maze Runner series...Thank you, Mom and Dad! I can't believe I'm 15 already!**

* * *

**I love February 7th, guys.**

John woke up the next morning, stiffer than he'd been since he started living with Sherlock. He had the weirdest dream that night about Sherlock and himself being turned into kids after the Doctor had arrived. Funny thing was, he couldn't actually remember what had _really _happened after the Doctor arrived. John assumed he must have gone to a pub or something with the others, gotten drunk and…John suddenly realized he was naked underneath his covers. He quickly went to pull on some underwear, jeans, and a jumper, all the while trying to figure out what happened. If he had gotten drunk, where were his clothes? Sherlock or the Doctor would have made sure he had something on, or knowing the Doctor, wouldn't have let him get drunk in the first place. Besides, aside for feeling stiff, there weren't any signs he'd gotten drunk. So why was he naked in his room with no recollection of what happened recently other than that strange dream he had? _Sherlock probably drugged me!_ The answer made perfect sense with what was going on right now. Just as he was trying to figure out what to say when confronting Sherlock with his theory, there was a knock at his door. "John, are you okay?"

John opened the door. "Doctor? Of course I'm okay, what happened? Why did I wake up naked in my bed? What are you still doing here? Wait—where's Sherlock?!"

The Doctor just stared at him. "Do you remember anything from the last two days?"

"_Two_ days?! Doctor, WHAT IS GOING ON?!" There was a bang, followed by footsteps at the bottom of the stairs. "John! You're all right?"

"Mycroft?! Okay, would someone PLEASE tell me what's going on?!" The two men shushed him. Mycroft pointed to the living room and said, "It's best if you see it for yourself." John sent the two men a look, then walked down the stairs and into the living room. There, a curly haired boy lay on their couch, his eyes half-open, annoyed that he'd been woken up by all the noise. He looked up and his eyes focused on John. "John?" He muttered sleepily. John walked further into the room. "Yeah, and who are you?" he asked. "John, it's me! Shewlock!" The boy said. John was now more confused than ever. This was starting to get a little weird for his tastes. "What? Sorry, just…what?"

Sherlock's face fell. "Don' you wemembew me? John! It's me!"

John shook his head. Then he started to think about his dream, the bottle of liquid, his and Sherlock's transformation, Moriarty… "Sh-Sherlock?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "Why'd you get so big? You wewe thwee yestewday! Like me!"

John looked at Sherlock with concern. "Sherlock, this is my normal age. And you're supposed to be just a little younger than me."

Now it was Sherlock's turn to be confused. "Nuh-uh? What'we you talkin' 'bout? I'm _thwee_, wemembew?" He spoke slowly, trying to get John to understand.

And all of a sudden, John did. He sat on the couch, motioned Sherlock to sit on his lap, and gave him a hug, encouraging Sherlock to go back to sleep. That stabilizer really hadn't worked on Sherlock. He really was, completely, three years old. And now Sherlock was the one who had been left behind, sitting in John's lap, allowing himself to be lulled to sleep, none the wiser about his problem. The Doctor and Mycroft walked into the room, looking at John's reaction to the little-Sherlock. "We have to find out what made me normal again." He said. "_Fast_."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hey again, guys. My brother was pestering me about the next chapter a little while back, so I decided to deliver. BUT. After this I have to write out the chapter, then edit, then upload, double edit, and then publish, because this is my last prewritten one. Sorry.**

**kathaka9- Happy beltated birthday to you! Glad I could make you smile on it!**

**Your Best Friend (aka Abby)- Thanks for the happy birthday message, and I loved your drawing (I found it, yaaaaay~)! Anyone who wants to see it, go to tumblr and just search "shnuffeluv" and it should be the first search result. The weird thing is though, that I imagined Sherlock and John's PJ's almost exactly like that...weird...**

Sherlock asleep in John's lap, murmuring something inaudible, was how the Doctor and Mycroft got filled in on John's newest set of information. Mycroft just sat in Sherlock's chair, his head in his hands, eyes closed, as if trying to replace this reality with a pleasanter one. The Doctor immediately got up, and started to pace the floor, raving the whole time, only partly intelligible. "But…impossible to react so quickly…surely _both_ of you…must have been something…but _what_ didn't Sherlock have…"

"Doctor! Speak so that we can here you or don't speak at all!" Mycroft snapped.

Sherlock shifted. John shushed him. The Doctor glared, or tried to. He took one look at Sherlock and couldn't hold on to any emotion except sadness. "Okay…basically, what I've been saying if you would just _pay attention_," he shot at Mycroft, "Is that the solution to our problem must have been something that John had ingested yesterday. But, the question is what did John have yesterday that Sherlock didn't?"

"I…I don't know! I can barely remember anything from these past two days, let alone remember everything that I ate!"

"You ate pizza, fish fingews and custawd, ceweal, chicken, and spaghetti, in that owdew." Sherlock muttered. "Though why you wanna know iz beyon' me."

John looked down at Sherlock. "How could you _possibly_ remember that?"

"How don' you? 'S easy." He looked up at John. "Ow at least to me…" He trailed off.

John sighed. "You had all of that too, so I guess we reached a dead end there. Wait…"

"What?" The Doctor asked.

"Could it have been Moriarty? I mean, could he have given me or Sherlock something when you two weren't here? Or…"

"Or, what?" Mycroft looked up, suddenly interested in the turn the conversation was taking.

"I don't know…I just have this feeling. Not exactly like déjà vu, it's a little more urgent than that. Like…you tell yourself to remember something important, but as soon as you need to remember it…it's gone."

"And the harder you try to remember, the more distant the memory is?" The Doctor added.

John nodded. "Yeah…why? Is it important?"

The Doctor started to pace again. "It could be…it could be…" and he was back to murmuring again. Mycroft sighed. "If we just assume that Moriarty gave you nothing between the time he arrived and I came back to the flat, we can rule out it wasn't anything you had eaten. What about what you drank?"

"Watew, some apple juice, and that one cup of lemonade." Sherlock supplied. "I had all that too." He coughed. John paused. That seemed important for some reason. But he couldn't cling to it long enough to figure out why. Sherlock coughed again. A sweet taste filled John's memory for some reason…he growled when he lost it. Sherlock looked up at him. "My thwoat huwts, John. Could I have some watew?"

"Sherlock, what you need for a sore throat isn't water, it would be some juice…" John trailed off. "The juice!" He exclaimed. Mycroft started. The Doctor looked at the two, confused. "What juice?"

"The one from Raxi…Raxicoli…" John stumbled.

"Raxicoricofallipitorious?!" The Doctor asked, catching the mood. "Of course!" He took out his paper with the chemical makeup of the original formula. "The bonds that create the formula's reaction would be broken by the apple juice! Why didn't I catch this sooner?!"

Sherlock looked around, thoroughly confused. He pulled John's sleeve. "What'we they talkin' 'bout, John? Wha'so 'portant?"

John looked down at Sherlock. "It's kind of hard to explain, Sherlock. We just…found the missing piece in a problem we needed to solve."

Sherlock still looked confused, but nodded after a second anyway and, convinced he was up for a while at least, slid off John's lap to find something to do. John took the opportunity to check the kitchen for the remains of the apple juice, and only saw his empty cup from the night before. "Um…Doctor? You wouldn't happen to have any more of that juice in your TARDIS, would you?"

"No…_Please_ tell me the bottle isn't gone…" The Doctor walked into the kitchen. "Mycroft? Did you do anything with the bottle?"

"I put it back onto the counter by the sink where I found it after I gave some to John, and there was still half of it left when I placed it there." He replied, feeling nervous.

John walked over to the sink, afraid of what he might see. Inside it, was a pile of spaghetti-stained plates, a colander, and…a shattered bottle of apple juice. The Doctor cleared his throat. "That…might be my fault. I was cleaning after last night's explosion of a dinner-" John winced at the memory, "-and the bottle fell in the sink when I was wiping down the cabinets."

"So, basically-and forgive my mind for moving at a normal speed-we don't have any way of turning Sherlock back, or even any way to bring back his mind, and on top of it all, a three-year-old to raise."

The Doctor stared at him, pained. "Yeah."

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, we'd better find something to do with Sherlock, or he'll burn the house down."

The smell of smoke drifted out from Sherlock's room just as John finished talking.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: randombookworm4- Thank you so much for all four of your reviews! I'm glad that I could make things work that you were skeptical about, and I hope that I didn't mess you up with anything in real life because you read the whole fic at once. I have to write these chapter by chapter now though, since I don't have any left in my flash drive, so "soon" might not be always possible (my plot bunnies went on hiatus for a bit, they're like Sherlock like that.)**

**SH Ships Sherlock- Thank you for looking through my work, It's really considerate of you since I am but a humble fanfiction addict. I'm glad you think highly of it!**

"But Jooooohhhnnnnn!"

"Sherlock, I'm not even going to let you back in there if you keep acting like this. You don't use an alarm clock to set fire to people's clothes!" John grunted, half-pulling, half-carrying Sherlock into the living room. "Just be glad we caught you before you set the entire building on fire."

Sherlock sulked and refused to say anything else. He just wanted to do something, what was so wrong with that? He couldn't help it if he got bored, and especially since there were so many things running through his head that didn't make sense that he needed to drown out. John tried to talk to him, get him to play a game, do anything, but he just sat in his chair and refused to talk to anyone who tried. His chair didn't used to be so big, he thought. It should've been so that his feet touched the floor. There! Another thought that he couldn't make sense of. Why were there so many things he couldn't make sense of? He needed to think. He sat up, grabbed some pencils, paper, ribbon, and scissors, and retreated once again to his room. The other three were too busy to notice. "I could get more of the juice, but Sherlock would need even a sliver of his old consciousness for it to have any effect at all…" The Doctor was talking about him. Just another thing to put in his mental files. He liked thinking of his brain as a computer, but sometimes it seemed better like a place. _Maybe I could make it some kind of fortress to store my memories in someday._ But not now, now he had work to do. He spread everything out, ignoring the burnt spot on the floor. He drew John, Mycroft, and the Doctor, and put them in three different spots on the floor. Now what did he know about them?

1) John and the Doctor were nice

2) John looked 3 yesterday, but adult today

3) Mycroft had a weak spot for cake

…He didn't even know where that came from.

And on it went. He drew a picture to represent each thing, and put it under each person's picture. Once all of his thoughts about them were on paper, he looked through all of them, sorting it clearly in his mind, then taking some tacks he had hidden earlier and pinned everything up on the wall, connecting people by things that they had in common with ribbon. He sat back on his bed, and let out a huff of satisfaction. He now had a physical map based on the one he had in his head. "Impressive." A voice said from the door way.

"Go'way."

"I just want to talk, Sherlock."

"Ya jus' did."

"Bit of a smart alec, are we?" The Doctor sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at the spider web of Sherlock's wall. "Mycroft loves cake?" he asked, laughing a little.

"…Yeah."

"Listen, Sherlock, I know this really isn't easy for you. Could you say what's wrong instead of just running to your room every time?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Why not?"

"'S compily-commica-colacate…hawd."

"So is saying the word 'complicated.'" The Doctor joked.

Sherlock rolled onto his side and sighed. No one took him seriously. But, he thought, the Doctor doesn't take anything seriously. Sherlock furiously drew a silly face, and attached it to the Doctor. (On the wall, of course. Attaching it to the time lord himself would be ridiculous.) "Oi! I'm not silly!" He yelled indignantly. Sherlock just giggled. "Why don't you have a picture of yourself up there? If you have everyone else, why not you?"

"Hawd."

"How, what's wrong?"

"I got olla these things in my head tha' don' make senz, an' I dunno how to make 'em shut up so I can draw 'em an' puttem up."

"Like what?"

"Like…like…I keep seeing 'high functioning sociopath' ovew and ovew. An' I can hawdly say it wight. What's it mean? …Oh…I see a wewewolf when I look at you. It makes no sense!" His eyelids started to droop. "Wha's it…mean…Doctow…?"

He fell asleep his head hanging precariously just above his knees. The Doctor set him to lie on his back, just as John and Mycroft were coming within sight, sensing the worst of the storm had blown through. John was smiling, Mycroft looking like a statue, unless if you looked carefully in his eyes, there was a spark of barely contained hope ready to come out. That is, until he looked at Sherlock's wall of thoughts. "I do not have an obsession with cake!" He cried indignantly.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Fun fact: Most of the time when I write these, music is playing somewhere within earshot of me. This last time it was the Sherlock soundtrack. Where would I be without YouTube?**

**SH Ships Sherlock-Thank you again for all your wonderful reviews! Although it occurred to me today you won't see these for a bit...I may have just pulled an Anderson. But the sentiment is still the same. I'm so glad you love it!**

**I would tell the rest of you to R&R, but every thing I could _possibly_ say has already crossed your mind!**

**...**

***Stayin' Alive starts playing in the backround***

**"Moffat? Hey! I was just about to call you about the ending of Series 4...Oh, hang on. My readers are still listening..."**

***end of connection***

John kept staring at Sherlock's wall of thoughts long after the Doctor had gone away to make some calls to UNIT and Torchwood to see if they had any confiscated apple juice. John had laughed when he said it; Mycroft just looked back at him and said, "Do me a favor. Don't let my name go on record."

Soon after Mycroft had left as well, claiming Sherlock's thoughts were no more than "…a jumbled mass of pictures from his old life that half the time were mere speculation." He really disliked that picture of cake staring down at him.

John sat there for so long, Sherlock woke up all on his own, and completely awake from the moment he opened his eyes. "Whewe's evewyone else? And why awe you looking at that?"

"Mycroft and the Doctor are out working, and I just want to see where your train of thought has taken you. But do you mind telling me what some of this is? It's hard to keep everything straight." It really wasn't, but to hear Sherlock say it out loud might just help John realize how far his friend was from his old self, and how much needed to be done.

"Well, okay. But I wanna do something fun with you latew in wetuwn. Like a favow." John nodded his consent, and Sherlock started his tirade. "I stawted by dwawing the thwee people I had the most infowmation about in my head, and dwew them on thwee diffewent pieces of papew. Then, I took the facts I knew and dwew something to wepwe…wepeweson…wep-we-_sent_…it, and put them in a pile undew each face. Aftew that…" Sherlock paused to inhale, "I hung each pewson and thing, and when someone had something, I connected them to it. And if two people had the same thing, they'd get a speshul connectow."

"The sticky note?"

"The sticky note." Sherlock confirmed. "Do you undewstand bettew? It's hawd to say exactly whewe to stawt, 'cause it's a jumble in my head to begin with…"

"Yeah…yeah, I think I get it, Sherlock. DOCTOR!"

The Doctor ran in. "What? What is it?"

"Any luck on that apple juice? Sherlock's got enough of his mind to take it, based on what he just told me."

The Doctor smiled. "Well, then, I've got good news. Pack your bags, boys. We're going to Toorchwood!"

* * *

The taxi ride to Torchwood was passed in quiet conversations, mostly with Sherlock commanding them. "I wanna play 'I Spy' again! Pleeeeeaaaaaassssse?"

"Sherlock, we play that and you answer every time within 30 seconds of us starting the rhyme, and continuing to talk with us without missing a beat. Play something that the Doctor and I have a fair chance at." John said for the fifteenth time in as many minutes.

"I Spy! I Spy! I Spy!"

"Sherlock, if you stop chanting that and quiet down for the rest of the ride, I can guarantee you a lollipop when we get there." The Doctor bribed.

Sherlock sat down and shut up for the rest of the way. John talked with the Doctor the rest of the time about meaningless things like the weather or lunch. But they both knew what they were both really thinking: If Sherlock's not ready, or if he's not careful enough, he could be stuck forever. A soft "We're here," from the man up front and a quick payment later, and they were being escorted into a modern-style building, where a man wearing a belt and suspenders was waiting for them. "Doctor."

"Jack."

"Thought I'd never see you again. New face I see."

"Yeah, it's been a while."

"Anyway, we're not here to catch up. We're here to talk about a certain boy hiding behind your leg." He knelt in front of Sherlock and smiled. "You must be Sherlock Holmes. Welcome to Torchwood."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Sorry, guys, I know it's not good (and majorly short), but I'm desperate 'cause I had an idea that I can't put in action right away, but most likely I can do it after this chapter. I'm also thinking about making a new fic, based off the book Flowers for Algernon so if you'd be interested, let me know.  
**

**SH Ships Sherlock- For when you catch up, I love reading your reviews! All you guys make chasing plot bunnies and crushing writer's block worth it!**

**kathaka9- I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who just constantly peaks in on their fics all the time, and it makes me so happy that someone would do that to one of MY fics.**

**The little Shireling- I'm glad you decided to look at this fic, even gladder that you like it and you also keep tabs on it! My writer's block and a lot of school work might hold me back from updating as often, but you better believe that I keep thinking "What next, what next, what next?"**

**...That's why I had to force this chapter. No other way to get to the juicy part.**

"What's that? What's that? WOAH! What's that?!"

"Sherlock, get back here right now!"

Sherlock was running everywhere in the Torchwood base, sending papers flying, odds and ends scattering, and the occasional weapon firing. It was chaos. "Doctor, maybe you shouldn't have given Sherlock that lollipop. He seems a little hyperactive." John said as he scooped Sherlock up. "Hey! Pumme dow'! I wanna walk m'self!"

Jack laughed and moved to take Sherlock from John. "Sherlock, would you really like to almost die from accidentally causing an explosion from a backed-up sonic gun?"

"…Yes!"

"Then you're going to be either carried or holding someone's hand at all times. This place is already unstable from a few incidents where-"

"Yes, well this is all very well and good," The Doctor spoke up for the first time since they arrived, "But what can we do about Sherlock's condition?"

Jack suddenly straightened up. Not a lot, and certainly not noticeable to anyone else. No, sir, just a bit. "Well, here's the thing. We know _where_ to get the juice, but we've been denied access to that division of Torchwood. Because…well…"

"You said 'hello?' Great. Now what are we supposed to do? We can't take a 3-year-old to some research lab and say, 'Hey, can we have some of your apple juice? It's the cure for a de-aging serum that this boy accidentally drank?' He'd get dissected in a second!" The Doctor said.

"Hey, not necessarily! I've been rehabilitating this place and it's come along really well!"

"Oh? Then what about that time-"

"Uh, sorry to interrupt, but someone's running towards us in a huge hurry, and it looks like they have bad news." John said.

"Jack! Huff…Jack, you need to come quick!"

"Why, what is it, what's wrong?" Jack asked the man.

"We…haaah…have…huff…an intruder…top level danger!"

"Oh, great. Where are they?"

"They're blowing through all the security like it's nothing, and they've just about reached us! They should be right around the power grid…"

Just then the lights went out, and everyone was left in darkness, with only Sherlock's screams piercing the thick veil of black.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: It occurs to me now that I could have put the last chapter together with this chapter and not have made you suffer with that last bit, but what's done is done: and now what's coming next.**

One moment Sherlock was screaming, the next everything was silent. No one could find their voice to ask if he was okay. Only Jack knew, though. He couldn't be okay. He had been ripped from his arms. As a result, he was the one to find his voice first. "Sherlock! Sherlock?! Where are you?!"

John found his voice next, "What do you mean, Jack?! Where's Sherlock?!"

"If I knew I wouldn't be yelling! Someone ripped him out of my arms!"

The Doctor joined the fray next. "Quiet, you two! I need to find the lights' frequency!" A green light and whirring noise started, and soon the lights were back on. "Just a broken fuse. Not the intruder."

"But Sherlock…" John muttered.

"He was probably taken by the intruder." The Doctor grimaced.

"Hey, where's the other guy?" John asked. "I never caught his name."

"I didn't either. There was supposed to be a new recruit today, though. I thought that he was…" Jack trailed off. He swore under his breath. "He was the intruder, wasn't he?"

The Doctor started fishing through his pockets. He handed Jack and John what looked like a cross between a lantern and a glow stick, and turn on one of his own. "Portable sunlight. I've got an idea. Sherlock screams when the lights go out and he's suddenly in complete darkness, it's a common enough response among young kids, not even exclusive to humans, has to do with Vashta Nerada, but that's aside the point. If he screams, then if we were to plunge him into darkness again-"

"He would scream." John supplied, "Oh! That's brilliant!"

"And our 'portable sunlight' will let us see, so we can follow the intruder, while he's stumbling in the dark!" Jack said, smiling.

The Doctor held up his sonic. "Lights off in 3…2…1…"

A scream sounded in the distance, and the three lights in the dark split off to find the terrified child.

* * *

Mycroft was relieved when his man got past the security in Torchwood, and even happier that he covered their tracks by saying there was a different intruder coming in. He was smiling to himself in the security room when the lights went out. Sherlock started to scream. "Plan B," he hissed into his mic piece that transmitted to the man's mini Bluetooth Mycroft had designed for situations specifically like this, "Plan B, now!"

Sherlock's screaming stopped, and the man rushed out of the room, hand over Sherlock's mouth, judging by the way the man was hissing in pain. Sherlock did tend to be a biter. "Listen, kid. I'm just trying to get you to your older brother, okay? He wanted you with him, and I was coming to get you…OW!"

Sherlock bit his hand and was about to scream again when the lights came on and he could finally register what the man had said, once the terror subsided. "My wanted me?" He stopped struggling and looked up into the man's eyes.

"Yeah, kid. We're going to him now. Why else would I get you?"

They were getting close to the security room, so Mycroft walked out and made to exchange Sherlock. "I can take him from here."

"Thanks. I think that kid drew blood. You could have warned me."

"I didn't realize that he would. I had assumed he would have grown out of it by now."

Sherlock jumped out of the man's arms and gripped to Mycroft's chest like a koala on a eucalyptus tree. "My! Whewe've you been? I miss you!"

"That would be 'missed' Sherlock." Mycroft remarked absently. "Now come on, let's go." He shifted Sherlock up and Sherlock wound up perching on his shoulders, hugging his forehead. The man who had brought Sherlock snickered. If there was one thing he never expected to see, it was Mycroft letting his little brother crawl all over him. "Let's go." He said. He and Mycroft were just about to be halfway there when the lights went out again. Sherlock started to scream.

Mycroft panicked and did the only thing he could think to do: brought him down off his shoulders and pulled him close to his chest so that Sherlock could hear his heartbeat. "Shh, shh. Lock, I'm right here, it's okay, you don't have to scream." He said exactly what he always said to Sherlock during those thunderstorms when he was 3 the first time. "Shh. You're okay, you're okay."

Sherlock melted into Mycroft's arms and started to cry. His throat hurt from screaming, so he tried not to make any noise, aside from the occasional hiccup he couldn't help. He closed his eyes, remembering that in his bedroom during those storms, if he closed his eyes he could pretend he was falling asleep, his nightlight on and glowing on his bedside table and Mycroft was just telling him one last story before he fell asleep. His sobs slowly stopped as well, and all he could focus on was Mycroft's heartbeat, right there, proving that he had protection against the monsters in his mind; that someone was with him, that he was no longer alone. He realized Mycroft had started moving again but he couldn't care less where they were going. All he could think about was Mycroft was there, he was holding him, he was keeping him safe. He fell asleep so fast and so deeply he didn't even notice when the lights came back on, or when Mycroft stopped when he realized he had been cornered by John, the Doctor, Jack, and the man that had been with them had fled. Sherlock didn't even notice when one heartbeat changed to two as the Doctor picked him up and carried him as he led Mycroft down a hallway that led to what could have been an office or an interrogation room, unaware that things would be less than easy when he woke up.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: It's rare I don't have anything to say up here, but since I feel obliged to say this, I suppose this chapter doesn't count.**

**Random Fact: Those people who say nothing is impossible? They've probably never tried to slam a revolving door. ;D**

John wound up being the one to hold Sherlock while Mycroft took a lot of heat from Jack. There were the obvious formalities writing down names, dates, times and other things, and then it started to get heated. "Where did you come in?" Jack asked.

"The front door." Mycroft said, barely containing a sneer.

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"We have your picture on file. The security around here won't just let you _walk in the front door_."

Mycroft looked at him pityingly. "You really have no idea how to handle people, do you?"

Jack slammed his hands down on the table. The Doctor placed his hands between the two men. "Okay, settle down. I don't want anyone getting hurt here."

"You should have thought of that before you brought Sherlock here then, _Doctor_." Mycroft snarled. "This man takes nothing seriously, and is a liability. I've been trying for two years to limit his access, but all I could do was affect his ability to access certain buildings and associate myself with the _real_ head of Torchwood."

"Let me guess." The Doctor said. "He's the one you said 'hello' too, isn't he, Jack?"

Jack looked embarrassed. "Well, you have to admit, he is…"

"I don't even want to hear the end of that sentence." John interrupted, and the Doctor nodded, his best 'I really shouldn't have smelled/licked/said that' face on.

"Well, the fact still is that Sherlock needs that juice, and Jack can't get it, although thinking back, I'm pretty sure I got the bottle from the storage area in the first place, since I'm not particularly liked on Raxicoricofallipitorious." The Doctor said. "So, what can we do to solve that, huh? That's at least one thing we can agree on."

"Couldn't we just go _back_ to Raxicoricofallipitorious, though? Who cares if you're well liked we just fly over there, get the juice, and fly back." Jack said.

Mycroft huffed. "You really _don't_ know how people work."

Jack lunged for Mycroft but was blocked by the Doctor. "Listen, I don't know just who you think you are—oh, wait! I do! You think you're the British Government, and that everyone will scurry where you tell them to, when you tell them to. Well, I have news for you, buddy…"

"Um, guys…" John tried to say.

"I'm BOESHINE! You're little schemes and plans have no power over me, never have, and never will! I can't believe anyone would be so stupid as to—"

"S'cuse me," Sherlock said, pulling at Jack's pant leg. "But…why awe you guys so angwy? The Doctow said you want'ned the same thing, wight? Why fight when you could wowk togethew and get it done fastew?"

Jack stared down at Sherlock. Sherlock blinked right back at him. "I tried to tell you two you were waking him up…" John started.

Mycroft stared at his younger brother now _much_ younger brother trying to make out what he was thinking. He was confused, that much was evident on his face and by what he said, but beneath that there was something in his eyes, something he was trying to hide. Covering emotion with emotion, he still had a lot to learn…no, focus. Beneath his confusion, there was just a little…fear? He was afraid of the adults he knew fighting, worried about being used as leverage or choosing a side…just like when their parents hit that bump in their marriage…when he was about this age.

Oh, well that made a little sense at least. He started to bend down to pick Sherlock up and comfort him. Jack blocked him and said simply, "No."

Mycroft straightened to full height. "Why not?" he asked coolly, implying one wrong step could cost him more than just Sherlock. Sherlock started to wimper, a tear falling down his face, and the Doctor tried to say something, but was cut off by a quick, "Stay out of this, Doctor," by Jack. And Jack was explaining just why not when they heard the door creak, John holding a silently crying Sherlock on his hip. "If you two can't take care of Sherlock, then neither of you two will have him. Doctor, you sort out this mess, and call me when you have them playing nice. Until then," he started to close the door. "I'll be doing what none of you three can, taking care of him the way he needs it." And the door shut with a firm finality in its tone.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: SH Ships Sherlock- I'm so glad you've caught up, and I give you big internet bear hugs for your kind reviews. I looked back at that line in that chapter, and I'm not entirely sure what that's supposed to mean, either. I'm glad you approve of my imagery, and I can't believe that my work could be so good to stun someone! Reading reviews, is like, number one or two on the list of perks for writing these!**

**...Okay, I'll stop gushing and get on with it. Hopefully, mindless fluff and an interesting interaction between Mycroft and Jack the next chapter!**

"John? John…Jaaaawwwwnnnnn!"

"*Sigh*…What is it, Sherlock?" John asked. Sherlock hadn't left him alone since they had left Torchwood together, and he was getting tired of all the questions that really didn't need to be answered. And Sherlock thought others could ask stupid questions…

"Whewe awe we goin'? You nevew said, an' I doubt we can jus' go back home…" Sherlock trailed off.

"That's a very good question, Sherlock. Actually, we're going to a place you told me about once. A _bolt hole_ of sorts you had found. 22 and 23 Lauriston Gardens, two fake houses that still have the front and a few rooms left, but were demolished years ago to make way for the tube."

"An' is it safe? They won't fin' me? I sometimes hide from Mummy and Dad when they fight, but someone always finds me." Sherlock said, slowing his step a bit and reaching up to hold John's hand.

John looked down at his friend. It came as a bit of a surprise his parents used to fight, from what he'd heard when Sherlock and Mycroft thought he wasn't listening to their arguments, their parents got along, but Sherlock could hardly stand to be around them for long, and Mycroft had to bully him into going anywhere with them. But it showed Sherlock's past and present were blending together to make a new reality that he could understand. Hopefully, he could undo that. Hopefully. "I wouldn't worry about that right now, Sherlock. There's no way of knowing, but I will stay with you and try to protect you, even if I die because of it."

Sherlock looked up at him, eyes wide. "You mean it?" he gasped.

"Of course, Sherlock. What, you think I would lie about something like that?"

Sherlock's eyes got even wider. "Woah."

John bent down and picked Sherlock up into a hug. "The Doctor put some things in different bolt holes the other day; he told me some on the way to Torchwood. Let's just hope he considered this one. Here we are."

Sherlock took one look around the inside and promptly said, "Can we have mac 'n cheese fow lunch?"

John laughed. "I'll check to see if we have any, why don't you find a game we can play?"

They wound up having two big bowls of mac 'n cheese and an afternoon of Jenga to look forward to.

* * *

The room was silent for a moment after John left, the silence could have been cut with a butter knife it was so thick, or maybe by a group of people with eye drives and guns, the Doctor thought. Then he snickered, and the moment had moved on. Mycroft and Jack turned to glare at the Doctor, thinking he was laughing at them. "Sorry, just remembered something…heh. Heh heh."

"Well, Doctor, when you're done I would appreciate it if you helped to get Sherlock back safely." Mycroft said.

"Oh, as if he'd give Sherlock to _you_! I'm the resident human who knows so much about aliens. Obviously, he'd be safer with me!" Jack argued.

The Doctor looked between the two helplessly. "I'm not supposed to let you two leave until you can play nice. But at this rate, that's not going to happen, so I have another idea." He dragged the two men by the elbows out into the hallway, out of the building, into an alleyway. "Now, don't get me wrong. In normal circumstances, I would never condone this, EVER. But you two don't exactly constitute normal circumstances." He drew a circle in the alley with chalk. "You two are only fighting right now with _words_. But this way, you can get rid of the physical tension as well."

Seeing the blank looks on the two men's faces, the Doctor ran a hand over his own face and sighed. "As well as fighting verbally, you two are going to be fighting physically, no holds barred. Winner is the last one standing, whether the other is out of arguments, knocked out, or withdraws. Anyone willing to back down before we start this horrible idea?"

Only silence met him. "Well, then. Let the fight begin." The Doctor sighed.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: An extra special thanks to SH Ships Sherlock for the idea for the ending of Mycroft and Jack's fight! I was smiling the whole time thinking about it! (You'll see.) I love it when people enjoy my fics to make requests or share ideas. (I'm still getting used to it, I got only one on my first fic, but now there's a fic I have where half of it is based on requests!)**

**And now without further ado...fluff and fighting!**

John and Sherlock had a relatively lazy afternoon, after finding a box of macaroni; John made it and split it into two huge bowls, and walked into the lone room with a window to find Sherlock setting up a game of Jenga. He saw John and smiled. "Do you know how to play?"

John smiled back and knelt down setting a bowl of mac 'n cheese in front of Sherlock. "Of course. You can go first."

Sherlock adopted a look of determination that really didn't fit on his cherub face. He slid out a middle block near the bottom and placed it on the top of the stack, smiling at his success. He laughed and took a big bite of macaroni. "Youw tuwn!" He said playfully.

John took a side piece from the middle, raising his eyebrows at Sherlock in a way that said: _do you really expect to win?_ Sherlock narrowed his eyes in response. They played for fifteen minutes like this before the tower came down with a huge crash. "I win!" yelled Sherlock, shivering with glee at the fun he was having. John laughed. They had finished their macaroni, but neither had noticed or cared. The sun peeked in through the window, wanting to join the fun the two were having. They must have done this 10 times before they finally got bored and put it away. Sherlock leaned into John's lap, sighing in contentment. John felt like laying down himself. He sat in the rays of sunlight and slowly lay on his back. Sherlock pulled himself up onto John's stomach. "This was the most fun I've had in a long time." He said with startling clarity. "Thank you, John."

"It was no problem, Sherlock, I had fun too." John muttered sleepily. Soon the two were asleep in the warm sun, happy to have their best friend with them and to forget about everything, at least for a little while.

* * *

The fight between Jack and Mycroft was easily the strangest and funniest ordeal any of the three men there had ever been in. Jack had taken off his coat, and had to be persuaded to keep his shirt on. "Your coat is fine off as long as you have something on _underneath_." The Doctor stressed. Mycroft took off his suit jacket showing how loosely his white button-up shirt hung over his frame. He wasn't muscled, he wasn't even fat. He was just…there. Jack snorted. Then Mycroft threw a three-punch combo at Jack, accompanying it simply with "Sherlock is my brother, as his closest relative I should be responsible for him."

Jack blocked and dodged, "Family isn't always the best caretaker, we're talking about his safety here." A kick to the shins.

A jump back and a rush forward. "Who better to know how to take care of him than his older brother, who's practically raised him once before?"

Grab, shove, and crouch into a defensive position. "Maybe the guy who knows about aliens and who might want him, then how to beat them if they get aggressive."

A sucker punch, then a well-placed upper cut. "Who says anyone is after him?"

Shove into a wall, and a knee to the gut. "A genius turned three-year-old with all that potential and naïveté? Who wouldn't?"

A stab from the hidden blade in the tip of his umbrella, and a few swipes to gain lost ground. "Who even says that anyone knows about it? Surely the Doctor wouldn't be so stupid as to let something that big slip out?"

Jack rushed to Mycroft and pulled him up close into a kiss full on the lips, and let him go just as suddenly. "One, anyone could know about it by know, that kind of transformation leaves an energy trace, and two, the Doctor could definitely be that stupid. Take it from someone who has traveled with him."

Mycroft just stood there, mouth open like a goldfish. He fell backward, then stumbled trying to regain his footing, leaning against a building for support. "You…you just _kissed_ me?!" He meant for it to be a shocked yell, but it barely came out above a whisper. "You…you…what…that just…what…"

"Uh, Doctor? I think I just broke Mycroft. Do I still win the argument?" Jack asked laughing.

Mycroft slid down to sit on the ground. "He…and I just…but _why?_ I can't…"

The Doctor stared at him in concern and helped him to his feet, but he was still hunched over, muttering to himself. "Yeah, you win, now if you don't mind, we have to get him somewhere where he can act like this and not get hurt."

Jack nodded and made to guide Mycroft out of the alley. Mycroft just looked at him, and allowed himself to be walked back out into the street, and into a taxi where all three of them went to Jack's place to discuss what their next plan of action would be. When they said that they should go to Raxicoricofallipitorious just the three of them, and then find out where Sherlock and John were hiding, Mycroft finally seemed to come to terms with something in his mind. He stood up, returned Jack's kiss and without any attached emotion, said "Now we're even," and left the apartment. "Call me when you're ready to leave. Until then, I have to arrange a meeting with a certain official about Jack's access. It appears that he may just be able to handle more than I gave him credit for." He closed the door with a smirk, satisfied that was suitable payback and due credit. Not everyone could put him in the place Jack did, he certainly deserved more than he had at that moment.

But given the chance, he doubted he would kiss Jack again. The man just wasn't his type.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: KittyEspeon- Thanks for saying all those nice things! I experience so many feels from my shows, it's nice to control them (and to know I can control them effectively); I hope you don't get to worked up with feels, though, it can wreak havoc on your life. And your welcome, it was my pleasure to write it. =)**

**Everyone enjoy!**

Jack was ready for almost anything. He had his sonic laser (actually working, which was a plus, since the last few times he'd tried to use it he had no luck,) his belt and suspenders firmly in place, various aliases and papers properly forged and stored for quick access, and his confidence at just the right levels to pass for a traveler making a quick stop on a random planet with working facilities or decent food. But all of that slipped out of his mind when he met the Doctor and Mycroft at their designated meeting point.

The Doctor looked like what he supposed was normal for this regeneration: bow tie, suspenders, overall your basic granddad outfit. It was Mycroft who made all the circuits in his brain freeze. It was beyond saying hello, it was just how he was dressed: a way that completely fit him and didn't at the same time. He wore a plain light-green polo and a pair of jeans with a set of beat up rusty-red sneakers to top it all off. He seemed…almost normal, the kind of normal that leant to being formal, but still normal. Jack blinked after he realized Mycroft had been saying something for the past minute, trying to get through to him. "What?"

"Are you all right? You seem…distracted." He smirked, leaning against the side of the TARDIS, like there was nowhere else he belonged.

Jack just blinked and turned to the Doctor. "Yeah, I felt that way when I first saw him too. It's different, isn't it? He's already looked inside the TARDIS, realized how it worked right away. We're all set…Jack?"

Jack finally found his vocal chords again. "What? Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm all set too. Ah, when are we going?"

"The year 2250, or 55000 on Raxicoricofallipitorious. They will have overcome any hostilities they had against neighboring planets and thrown their economy into trade, so we should be welcomed." Mycroft kicked himself off the side of the TARDIS and walked inside. "Come inside when you're ready."

"He's doing that to spite you, Jack. I told him all of that earlier." The Doctor tried to comfort him.

"Well, it's working, I can tell you that much." Jack sighed. "Let's go and get this over with, the sooner I'm done with him, the sooner I can forget the whole thing. What is it with you and sassy red-heads, Doctor?" Jack asked. "You seem to be developing a type."

* * *

John and Sherlock wound up sleeping until the sun had set and twilight had blanketed London. As it was, Sherlock was the one who woke up John, otherwise he might've slept until morning. "John…John! John, please, wake up. Please…"

It took John a moment to even realize who was talking, a moment more to be aware of the fact that they were still in the bolt hole and not at Baker Street. After that had been sorted out in his mind, John bolted up, Sherlock sliding down to John's knees. "What is it, Sherlock? Is someone outside?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Well, what?"

Sherlock looked down. "Iwembewsomethings." he muttered.

"Sorry, what? I didn't catch that."

Sherlock looked up into John's eyes, focused more than they had been for almost a week. "I'm mowe scawed wight now than when I fiwst met Mowiawty and he had you in a bomb."

Realizing what must have happened; that Sherlock must have finally sorted out all of his memories, John stood up and picked Sherlock up, saying, "Let's talk about it over some hot chocolate. That'll probably ease my nerves even more than yours, and we can figure out how much your mind has sorted through things."


End file.
